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TO THE MEMORY OP 


THE DEAR YOtJNG FRIEND 
WHO SUGGESTED ITS NAME TO THIS LITTLE STORY^ 
AND FROM WHOSE LATE HOME, 

SO INTIMATELY ASSOCIATED WITH HER, 

THIS DEDICATION IS MADE. 


Bindon, AugilsU 1887. 









“ Would I could paint the serious brow, 

The eyes that look the world in face, 
Half-questioning, doubting, wondering how 
This happens thus, or that finds place.” 

—My Opposite Neighbor, 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. p^gb 

A Breakfast-Party 1 

CHAPTER II. 

The White Spot on the Hill 18 

CHAPTER III. 

“ The Children at the Back.” 33 

CHAPTER IV. 

“ Real ” Fancies 49 

CHAPTER V. 

The Little Red Shoes 66 

CHAPTER VI. 

Fellow-Feelings and Slippers 88 

CHAPTER VII. 

A Bun to the Good 101 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Under the Big Umbrella 117 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Opposite House 185 

CHAPTER X. 

** Soap-Bubbling ” 150 

CHAPTER XL 

Up Fernley Road 167 

CHAPTER Xn. 

The Shoes'Lady Again 184 






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LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

** What is the matter, little girls ?” said the \ 2 LdiY. Frontispiece 
He had to drum with a spoon, first in one fat hand and then 

in the other 2 

They were settled on the hearth-rug — baby on Peggy’s lap . . 17 

** See, Hal,” she said, “ over there, far, far away, neely in the 

sky, does you see that bluey hill ? ” 27 

She was rather a terrible-looking old woman; she always 
wore a short bed-gown . . . and she was generally to be 

seen with a pipe in her mouth 35 

“ Tell me what the little white house is reely like” 53 

Peggy stood still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes 70 

“ Here’s the other shoe; Pve just founded it” 94 

Suddenly a window above opened, and Mother Whelan’s 

befrilled face was thrust out 110 

An umbrella rolling itself 'about on the pavement 131 

“ To be sure,” she said, in her most gracious tone. “ ’Tis the 

beautiful pipes I have” 142 

The boys, boy-like, thought little but of who could blow the 

biggest bubbles 154 

Hushed Light Smiley to sleep, her arm clasped round Peggy, 182 




LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


CHAPTER 1. 

A BREAKFAST-PAETY. 

Henry was every morning fed 

With a full mess of milk and bread." 

— Mart Lamb. 

said Peggy to herself, with a little 
sigh, “ the naughty clouds has covered it up 
to-day. I can’t see it.” 

“ Miss Peggy,” came nurse’s voice from the 
other side of the room, “your breakfast’s 
waiting. Come to the table, my dear, and stand 
quiet while Master Thor says the grace.” 

Nurse spoke kindly, but she meant what she 
said. Peggy turned slowly- from the window 
and took her place among her brothers. She, 
and Thorold and Terence, the two oldest boys, 
sat opposite nurse, and beside nurse was baby, 
who required a great deal of room to himself 
at table, baby though he was. He had so many 
things to do during a meal, you see, which 
grown-up children think quite unnecessary. He 


2 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


had to drum with a spoon, first in one fat hand 
and then in the other ; he had to dip his crust 
first in nurse’s cup of tea and next in Hal’s jug 
of milk to see which tasted best, and there 
would have been no fun in doing either if he 
hadn’t had to stretch a long way across ; and 
besides all this he felt really obliged now and 
then to put his feet upon the table for a change, 
one at a time, of course. For even he, clever 
as he was, could not have got both together 
out of the bars of his chair without toppling 
over. Nurse had for some time past been 
speaking about beginning “to break Master 
Baby in,” but so far it had not got beyond 
speaking, and she contented herself with seat- 
ing him beside her and giving him a good 
quarter of the table to himself, the only objec- 
tion to which was that it gave things in general 
a rather lop-sided appearance. 

At the two ends sat Baldwin and Hal. 
Hal’s real name, of course, was Henry, though 
he was never called by it. Baldmn, on the 
contrary, had no short name, partly perhaps 
because mamma thought “ Baldie ” sounded so 
ugly, and partly because there was something 
about Baldwin himself which made one not 
inclined to shorten his name. It suited him so 


“ Bavby, wko r£C|u*irccl £\ dtal cjf room 

to hi ms dfai* “taLlDls ^ baby Tbouc^h h^ was. 

Hi kauJ 50 mar^ tbin<^ to do clarin^amjd. 



yo(-i stz, wKick (grown -up children think cjuiTi 
unntciisary. ti? had to dram with aj|ooon 
•firjt in cm fat Kand and thin in thi othr! 
he had to cli[3 his crust first in nursis Cup of 
t/a and nixt in Hals Ju^ of milk to Su which 
tasted bist, and thm woulii. havi biin no fun 
‘in doings ilthtr if Ki Kadn’f had to stV^ tch ^ 
lon^ way across; and bisid^s all this ht fdt 
really cbliigd now and thin to put his f^st up.- 
ojx ms. t^li for a cKangs^om atatimi.ofcouCi!^ 




A BREAKFAST-PARTY. 


3 


well, for lie was broad and comfortable and 
slow. He was never in a burry, and be gave 
you tbe feeling that you needn’t be in a burry 
either. There was plenty of time for every- 
thing, for saying tbe whole of bis name as well 
as for everything else. 

That made a lot of brothers, didn’t it ? Five, 
counting baby, and to match them, or rather 
not to match them — for five and one are not a 
match at all — only one little girl ! She won- 
dered about it a good deal, when she had 
nothing else more interesting to wonder about. 
It seemed so very badly managed that she 
should have five brothers, and that the five 
brothers should only have one sister each. It 
wasn’t always so, she knew. The children at 
the back had plenty of both brothers and 
sisters ; she had found that out already. But 
I must not begin just yet about the children at 
the back ; you will hear about them in good 
time. 

There was a nice bowl of bread-and milk at 
each childls place, and as bread-and-milk is 
much better hot than cold, it was generally 
eaten up quickly. But this morning, even after 
the grace was said, and the four brothers who 
weren’t baby had got on very well with theirs, 
Peggy sat, spoon in hand, gazing before her 
and not eating at all. 


4 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


“ What’s tlie matter, Miss Peggy ?” said 
nurse, when she had at last made baby under- 
stand that he really wasn’t to try to put his 
toes into her tea-cup, which had struck him 
suddenly as a very beautiful thing to do; 

you’ve not begun to eat. Are you waiting 
for the sugar or the salt, or can’t you fix which 
you want this morning ?” 

For there was a very nice and interesting 
rule in that nursery that every morning each 
child might choose whether he or she would 
have salt or sugar dn the bread-and-milk. The 
only thing was that they had to be quick about 
choosing, and that was not always very easy. 

Peggy looked up when nurse spoke to her. 

Peggy wasn’t ’toosing,” she said. Then 
she grew a little red. “ I wasn’t ’toosing,” she 
went on. For Peggy was five — five a good 
while ago — and she wanted to leave off baby 
ways of talking. I was wondering.” 

W ell, eat your breakfast, and when you’ve 
got half-way down the bowl you can tell us 
what you were wondering about,” said nurse. 

Peggy’s spoon, already laden, continued its 
journey to her mouth. But when it got there, 
and its contents were safely deposited between 
her two red lips, she gave a little cry. 


A BJiJ^A^J^AST-FAHTK 


5 


Oh !” she said, it doesn’t taste good. 
There’s no salt or sugar.” 

’Cos you didn’t put any in, you silly girl,” 
said Thor. I saw, but I thought it’d be a 
good lesson. People shouldn’t wonder when 
they’re eating.” 

Peggy wasn’t eating ; she was only going 
to eat,” said Terry. Never mind. Peg-top. 
Thor shan’t tease you. Which’ll you have ? 
Say quick,” and he pulled forward the sugar- 
basin and the salt-cellar in front of his sister. 

“ Sugar, pelease,” said Peggy. It’s so told 
this morning.” 

At this Thor burst out laughing. 

What a Peggy-speech,” he said. “ Sugar’s 
no warmer than salt.” 

“Yes,” said Baldwin solemnly, from the 
other end of the table. “ ’Tis. There’s sugar 
in taffy and in jam, and they’re hot, leastways 
they’re hot to be made. And there’s salt in 
ices, for mamma said they’re made with salt.” 

“ What rubbish !” said Thor. “ Nurse, isn’t 
it rubbish ? And when did you ever see ices, 
I’d like to know, Baldwin ?” 

“ I did,” Baldwin maintained. “ Onst. But 
I’ll not tell you when, if you say rubbish.” 

“ It is rubbish all the same, and I’ll prove 


6 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


it,” said Tlior. You know that nice smooth 
white sugar on the top of bridescake ? — well, 
they ice that to put it on — I know they do. 
Don’t they, nurse ?” 

“ They call it icing, to be sure,” nurse re- 
plied. But that’s no proof that ices them- 
selves mayn’t be made with salt. Master Thor, 
for when you come to think of it ices have 
sugar in them.” 

To be sure they have,” Thor cried trium- 
phantly. Nurse has proved it — that sugar’s no 
warmer than salt,” which was not what nurse 
had intended to say at all. 

But now Peggy, who all this time had been 
steadily eating, looked up again. 

“Peggy was wondering,” she said, “what’s 
clouds. Is clouds alive ?” 

Thor was all ready with his “ you silly girl ” 
again, but this time Terry was before him. 

“They can’t be alive,” he said. “They’ve 
got no hands or feet, or mouths and noses, and 
eyes and ” 

“ They has noses,” said Peggy eagerly. 
“ Peggy’s seen them, and they has wings — the 
little ones has wings, they fly so fast. And 
p’r’aps they has got proper faces on their other 
sides, to look at the sun with. I’ve seen shiny 
bits of the other sides turned over.’' 


A BBEAKFAST-PARTT. 


7 


^^Yes,” said Baldwin solemnly again, as if 
that settled it, so has I.” 

“ Bnt they’re not alive, Peggy, they’re really 
not. They fly because the wind blows them,” 
said Terence. 

Oh !” said Peggy, with a deep-drawn 
breath, I see. Then if we all bio wed very 
hard at the window, if we all blowed together, 
couldn’t we blow them away ? I do so want 
to blow them away when they come over my 
hills.” 

But when she had said this she grew very 
red, just as if she had told something she had 
not meant to tell, and if any one had looked at 
her quite close they would have seen that there 
were tears in her eyes. Fortunately, however, 
no one had noticed her last words, for Thorold 
and Terence too had burst out laughing at the 
beginning of her speech. 

Fancy us all blowing out of the window 
together,” they said. And they began puffing 
out their cheeks and pretending to blow very 
hard, which made them look so funny that 
Peggy herself burst out laughing too. 

I’ll tell you what,” said Thor, when they 
were tired of laughing, “ that reminds me of 
soap-bubbles; we haven’t had any for such a 


8 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


time. Nurse, will you remember to let us have 
them the first wet half -holiday ? Mamma’ll let 
us if you will.” 

And the pipes ?” said nurse. There was 
six new got the last time, and they were to 
last, certain sure, till the next time, and 
then ” 

Oh ! I know,” said Thor, “ we took them to 
school and never brought them back. Never 
mind — we’ll get some more from old Mother 
Whelan. She always keeps lots. We’ll keep 
our halfpennies for two Saturdays — that’ll do. 
But we must be going, Terry and Baldwin. 
I’m all ready.” 

And he jumped up as he spoke and pulled 
his satchel of books from under his chair, where 
he had put them to be all ready. Baldwin 
slowly got down from his place, for he was not 
only broad, but his legs were very short, and 
came up to nurse to be helped on with his 
little overcoat, while Terence began rushing 
about the room in a fuss, looking for one of his 
books, which as usual couldn’t be found at the 
last minute. 

I had it just before breakfast, I’m sure I 
had,” he went on repeating. I haven’t finished 
learning it, and I meant to look it over. Oh, 
dear, what shall I do ?” 


A BREAKFAST-PARTY. 


9 


The nursery party was too accustomed to 
Terry’s misfortunes to be much upset by them. 
Peggy sat still fol a moment or two considering. 
Then she spoke. 

Terry,” she said, “ look in baby’s cot.” 

Off flew Terence, returning in trinmpb, 
grammar in hand. 

“ I’ll learn it on the way to school. How did 
you know it was there, Peggy ?” 

“ I sawed you reaching over to kiss baby 
when you corned in to ask nurse for a new shoe- 
lace this morning,” said Peggy with great 
pride. 

“ Good girl,” said Terence as he slammed the 
door and rushed downstairs to overtake his 
two brothers. 

The nursery seemed very quiet when the three 
big boys had gone. Quiet but not idle ; there 
was always a great deal to do first thing of a 
morning, and Peggy had her own share of the 
doing to see to. She took off her own breakfast 
pinafore and put on a quite clean one — one that 
looked quite clean anyway, just as if it had’ 
never been on, even though it had really been 
used two or three times. Peggy called it her 
prayers pinafore,” and it always lasted a whole 
week, as it was only worn to go down to the 


10 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


dining-room for five or ten minutes. Then she 
washed her hands and stood still for nurse to 
give a tidying touch to her soft fair hair, though 
it really didn’t need it— Peggy’s hair never 
looked messy — and then she took off Hal’s over- 
pinafore which he wore on the top of his blouse 
at meal-times, and helped him to wash his hands, 
by which time nurse and baby were also ready, 
and the little procession set off on their journey. 
If the prayers bell had not sounded yet, or did 
not sound as they made their way down, nurse 
would stop at mamma’s door and tap, and the 
answer was sure to be Come in.” Then nurse 
would go on downstairs with baby, and Peggy 
and Hal would trot in to see mamma, and wait 
a moment or two till she was ready. She was 
almost always nearly ready, unless she was 
very, very tired ; and in that case she would 
tell them to go downstairs and come up and see 
her again after prayers, as she was going to 
have breakfast in bed. They rather liked these 
days, though of course they were sorry for 
mamma to be so tired, but it was very interest- 
ing to watch her having her breakfast, and 
generally one or two dainty bits of toast and 
marmalade would find their way to the two 
little mouths. ^ ^ 


A BJiBAXFAST-FAJiTY. 


11 


It was only since last winter that mamma 
had been so often tired and not able to get up 
early. Before then she used always to come 
up to the nursery to see the six children at 
breakfast, and prayers were early enough for 
the three boys to stay for them, instead of hav- 
ing them at school. For mamma was not at 
all a lazy ” mother, as you might think if I did 
not explain. But last winter she had been very 
ill indeed, so ill that papa looked dreadfully un- 
happy, and the boys had to take oft their boots 
downstairs so as not to make any noise when 
they passed her door, and the days seemed very 
long to Peggy and Hal, worst to Peggy of course, 
for Hal was still so little that almost all his 
life belonged to the nursery. It was during 
that time that Peggy first found out the white 
spot on the hill, which I am going to tell you 
about, for she used to climb up on the window- 
sill and sit there looking out at whatever 
there was to see for hours at a time. 

This morning mamma was evidently not tired, 
for just as the children got to the landing on 
to which her door opened, out she came. 

^^Well, darlings,” she said, “there you are! 
Have the boys got off to school all rightly, 
nurse ?” 


12 


LITTLE MISS PEQGT, 


‘‘ Oh, yes, ma’am,” nurse was beginning, but 
Peggy interrupted her. 

u Terry loosed his book, mamma dear, and 
Peg — I founded it; I knewed where it was ’cos 
I used my eyes like you said.” 

“ That was a very good thing,” said mamma. 
She had talked to Peggy about using her eyes 
a good deal, for Peggy had rather a trick of 
going to sleep with her eyes open, like many 
children, and it becomes a very tiresome trick 
if it isn’t cured, and makes one miss a great 
many chances of being useful to others, and of 
enjoying pleasant things one’s self. Poor 
Terry — I wish he wasn’t so careless. Where 
was his book this time ?” 

In such a funny place, mamma dear,” said 
Peggy. In baby’s cot,” and at the sound of 
his name baby crowed, which made both Peggy 
and Hal burst out laughing, so that mamma 
had to hold their hands firmly to prevent their 
tumbling downstairs. 

After prayers were over nurse took baby and 
Hal away, but papa said Peggy might stay 
for a few minutes. 

I’ve scarcely seen you the last day or two, 
old woman,” he said ; you were fast asleep 
when I came home. What have you been 
about ?” 


A BBBAKFASTPAMTY. 


13 


“ About,” Peggy repeated, looking puzzled. 

“Well — wliat have you been doing with 
yourself he said again. 

“ I’ve been doing nothing with myself,” 
Peggy replied gravely. “ I’ve done my lessons 
and my sewing, and I’ve used my eyes.” 

“Well, and isn’t all that yourself ?” asked 
papa, who was rather a tease. “You’ve done 
your sewing with your fingers and your lessons 
with your mind, and you’ve used your eyes for 
both — mind, fingers, eyes — those are all parts 
of yourself.” 

Peggy spread out her two hands on the table 
and looked at the ten pink fingers. 

“ Them’s my fingers,” she said, “ but I don’t 
know where that other thing is — that what 
thinks. I’d like to know where it is. Papa, 
can’t you tell me ?” 

There came a puzzled look into her soft gray 
eyes — mamma knew that look ; when it stayed 
long it was rather apt to turn into tears. 

“ Arthur,” she said to Peggy’s papa, “ you’re 
too fond of teasing. Peggy dear, nobody can 
see that part of you ; there are many things we 
can’t ever see or hear or touch, which are real 
things all the same.” 

Peggy’s face lightened up again. She nodded 


14 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


her head softly, as if to say that she understood. 
Then she got down from her chair and went up 
to her father to kiss him and say good-by. 

“ Going already, Peg !” he said. Don’t you 
like papa teasing you ?” 

don’t mind,” said Peggy graciously; 

you’re only a big boy, papa. I’m going ’cos 
nurse wants me to keep baby quiet w’hile she 
makes the beds.” 

But when she got round to the other side of 
the table to her mother, she lingered a moment. 

“Mamma,” she whispered, “ it’s not there this 
morning — Peggy’s fairy house. It’s all hided 
up. Mamma ” 

“Well, darling?” 

“ Are you sure it’ll come back again ?” 

“ Quite sure, dear. It’s only hidden by the 
clouds, as I’ve told you before. You know 
you’ve often been afraid it was gone, and it’s 
always come again.” 

“Yes, to be sure,” said Peggy, “What a 
silly little girl I am, mamma dear.” 

And she laughed her own little gentle laugh. 
I can’t tell how it was that Peggy’s little 
laugh used sometimes to bring tears to her 
mother’s eyes. 

When she got, up to the nursery again she 


A BUBAKFAST-PAHTY. 


15 


found she was very much wanted. Nurse was 
in the night nursery, which opened into the 
day one, and looked out to the back of the 
house just as the other looked to the front. 
And baby was sitting on the hearth-rug, with 
Hal beside him, both seeming far from happy. 

Baby’s deiful c’oss, Peggy,” said poor Hal. 

And baby, though he couldn’t speak, pouted 
out his lips and looked very savage at Hal, 
which of course was very unreasonable and 
ungrateful of him, as Hal had been doing 
everything he could to amuse him, and had 
only objected to baby pulling him across the 
floor by his curls. 

“Oh, baby,” said Peggy, “that isn’t good. 
Poor Hal’s hair — see how you’ve tugged it.” 

For baby was still grasping some golden 
threads in his plump fists. 

“Him sinks zem’s fedders,” said Hal apolo- 
getically. He was so fond of baby that he 
couldn’t bear any one to say anything against 
him except himself. 

“ But baby must learn hairs isn’t feathers,” 
said Peggy solemnly. “And it isn’t good to 
let him pull the feathers out of his parrot 
either, Hal,” she continued, “ for some day he 
might have a live parrot, and then it would be 


16 


LITTLE MI8S PEGGY. 


cooel, and the parrot would bite him — yes, it 
would, baby.” 

This was too much for baby. He drew the 
corner of bis mouth down, then he opened it 
wide, very wide, and was just going to roar 
when Peggy threw her arms round him and 
kissed him vigorously. 

^‘He’s sorry, Hal — dear baby — he’s so very 
sorry. Kiss him, Hal. Let’s all kiss to- 
gether,” and the three soft faces all met in a 
bunch, which baby found so amusing that in- 
stead of continuing his preparations for a good 
cry, he thought better of it, and went off into 
a laugh. 

That’s right,” said Peggy. “ Now if you’ll 
both be very good boys I’ll tell you a story. 
Just wait a minute till I’ve tooked off my 
prayers pinafore.’ ’ 

She jumped up to do so. While she was 
unfastening it her eyes moved to the window ; 
she gave a little cry and ran forward. The 
day was clearing up, the sun was beginning 
faintly to shine, and the clouds were breaking. 

“ Mamma was right,” exclaimed Peggy joy- 
fully ; “ I can see it — I can see it ! I can see 
my white house again, my dear little fairy 
house.” 



y\nd in cM^otliLr moment 
w£r£ s2.tH5.cl on tK? KjArtfi-ru^— 
Bc^by on icXp- on, tSncJ 

off i^ too, for i^ \A/as vnixcK too 
Sma^ll to cxccoYrvocloJ '2 tKi wholj. 
of Kivn ; on tfxf floor bisicli 

hipj Inis curly Kidd Uanin^on 
Ki$ Sisters ^boLildir in blissful 
and trustful contmf 








A BMBAKFAST-PAMTy. 


17 


She would have stayed there gazing out con- 
tentedly half the morning if her little brothers 
had not called her back. 

“ Peggy,” said Hal plaintively, do turn. 
Baby’s pulling Hal’s ’air adain.” 

‘^Peggy’s coming, dear,” said the motherly 
little voice. 

And in another moment they were settled 
on the hearth-rug — baby on Peggy’s lap — 
on, and off it too, for it was much too small 
to accommodate the whole of him; Hal on 
the floor beside her, his curly head leaning 
on his sister’s shoulder in blissful and trustful 
content. 


18 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


CHAPTER n. 

TTTK WHITE SPOT OX THE HILL. 

^^0 reader! had you in your mind 
Such stores as silent thought can bring, 

O gentle reader! you would find 
A tale in everything. 

What more I have to say is short. 

And you must kindly take it: 

It is no tale; but, should you think. 

Perhaps a tale youTl make it.” 

— ^W. WORDSWOKTH. 

‘‘Tellixo stories,” when the teller is only 
five and some months old, and the hearers one 
and a quarter and three, is rather a curious 
performance. But Peggy was well used to it, 
and when in. good spirits quite able to battle 
with the difficulties of amusing Hal and baby 
at the same time. And these difficulties were 
not small, for, compared with baby, Hal was 
really “grown-up.” 

It is all very well for people who don’t know 
much about tiny children to speak of them all 


THE WmiB SPOT OB THE HILL. 


19 


together, up to — six or seven, let us say — as 
“ babies,” but we who think we do know some- 
thing about them, can assure the rest of the 
world that this is an imm ense mistake. One 
year in nursery arithmetic counts for ten or 
even more in real “grown-up” life. There 
was a great difference between Peggy and Hal, 
for instance, but a still greater between Hal 
and baby, and had there been a new baby 
below him again, of course it would have 
been the greatest of all Peggy could not 
have explained this in words, but she knew it 
thoroughly all the same, and she had learned 
to take it into account in her treatment of the 
two, especially in her stories telling. In 
reality the story itself was all for Hal, but 
there was a sort of running accompaniment for 
baby which he enjoyed very much, and which, 
to tell the truth, I rather think Hal found 
amusing too, though he pretended it was for 
baby's sake. 

This morning her glance out of the window 
had made Peggy feel so happy that the story 
promised to be a great success. She sat still 
for a minute or two, her arms clasped round 
babw s waist, gently rocking herseK and him to 
and fro, while her gray eyes stared before 
her, as if reading stories in the carpet or on the 
wall 


20 


LITTLE MI88 PE0G7. 


Peggy,” said Hal at last, giving her a hug 
— he had been waiting what he thought a very 
long time — Peggy, doe on — no, I mean begin, 
p’ease.” 

‘‘Yes, Hal, d’reckly,” said Peggy. “It’s 
coming, Hal, yes, now I think it’s corned. 
Should we do piggies first, to please baby 
before we begin ?” 

“ Piggies is so silly,” said Hal disdainfully. 

“Well, we’ll kiss him instead — another kiss 
all together, he does so like that and when 
the kissing was over — “ now, baby dear, listen, 
and p’r’aps you’ll understand some, and if you’re 
good we’ll have piggies soon.” 

Baby gave a kind of grunt ; perhaps he was 
thinking of the pigs, but most likely it was just 
his way of saying he would be very good. 

“ There was oust,” Peggy began, “ a little girl 
who lived in a big house all by herself.” 

“ Hadn’t she no mamma, or nurse, or — or — 
brudders ?” Hal interrupted. 

“ No, not none,” Peggy went on. “ She lived 
quite alone, and she didn’t like it. The house 
was as big as a — as a church, and she hadn’t 
no bed, and no chairs or tables, and there was 
very, very high stairs.” 

“ Is there stairs in churches ?” asked Hal. 


THE WHITE SPOT OH THE HILL, 


21 


Peggy looked rather puzzled. 

Yes, I think there is,” she said. There’s 
people high up in churches, so there must be 
stairs. But I didn’t say it were a church, Hal ; 

I only said as big as a church. And the stairs 
was for baby — you’ll hear — p’r’aps there wasn’t 
reelly stairs. IN^ow, baby, one day a little 
P%gy'Wiggy came up the stairs — one, two, 
three,” and Peggy’s hand came creeping up 
baby’s foot and leg and across his pinafore and 
up his bare arm again, by way of illustrating 
piggy’s progress, and when he got to the top 
he said ^ grumph,’ and poked his nose into the 
little girl’s neck ” — here Peggy’s own nose made 
a dive among baby’s double chins, to his ex- 
ceeding delight, setting him off chuckling to 
himself for some time, which left Peggy free to 
go on with the serious part of the story for 
Hal’s benefit — “ and there was a window in the 
big house, and the little girl used to sit there 
always looking out.” 

“Always?” asked Hal again. “All night . 
too ? Didn’t her ever go to bed ?” 

“ She hadn’t no bed, I told you. No, she 
didn’t sit there all night, ’cos she couldn’t have 
see’d in the dark. Never mind about the night. 
She sat there all day, always looking out, ’cos 
there was something she liked to see. If I tell 


22 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


you you won’t tell nobody wbat it was, will 
you, Hal ?” 

Hal looked very mystified, but replied 
obediently : 

No, won’t tell nobody,” be said. 

“Well, then, I’ll tell you wbat it was. It 
was a — ^ — ” But at this moment baby, having 
had enough of his own meditations, began to 
put in a claim to some special attention. The 
piggy had to be summoned and made to run up 
and down stairs two or three times before he 
would be satisfied and allow Peggy to proceed. 

“Well, Peggy?” said Hal eagerly. 

“ It was a ” Oh, dear, interrupted again ! 

But this time the interruption was a blessing 
in disguise. It was nurse come to fetch baby 
for his morning sleep. 

“ And thank you. Miss Peggy, my dear, for 
keeping him so nice and good. I heard you 
come up, and I knew they’d be all right with 
you,” she said as she walked away with baby, 
who was by no means sure that he wanted to 
go. 

“Now,” said Hal, edging closer to Peggy, 
“ we’ll be comfable. Go on, Peggy — what she 
sawed.” 

“ It was a hill — far, far away, neely as far as 


TEE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 


23 


the sky,” said Peggy in a mysterious tone. 
“ When the sun comes she could see it plain — 
the hill and what was there, but when the sun 
goed she couldn’t. There was a white spot on 
the hill, Hal, and that white spot was a lovely 
white cottage. She knowed it though she’d 
never see^d it.” 

“ How did she know it ?” 

“ Her mam — no, that’s wrong, she hadn’t 
no mamma — well, never mind, somebody ’d told 
her.” 

u Were it God ?” asked Hal, in an awestruck 
whisper. 

“I. don’t know. No, I don’t think so. I 
think it’s a little naughty to say that, Hal. 
No, dear, don’t cry,” for signs of disturbance 
were visible in Hal’s round face. “You didn’t 
mean, and it isn’t never naughty when we don’t 
mean, you know. We’ll go on about the little 
girl. She knowed it was a lovely cottage, and 
she wanted very much, as much as could be, to go 
there, for the big house wasn’t pretty, and it 
was dark, nearly black, and the cottage was all 
white.” 

“ Her house wasn’t as nice as zit, were it ? 
Zit house isn’t b’ack,” said Hal. 

“ No,” said Peggy doubtfully. “ It wasn’t 
as nice as this, but the white house was much 
prettier than this ” 


24 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


“ How ?” asked Hal. 

Ok !” said Peggy, letting ker eyes and ker 
fancy rove about togetker, “I tkink it was 
beautiful all over. It was all skiny wkite ; tke 
walls was wkite, and tke carpets was wkite, and 
tke tables and tke ckairs was wkite — all skiny 

and soft like — like ” 

Baby’s best sask,” suggested Hal. 

“ W ell, p’r’aps — tkat’ll do. And tkere was a 
cow and ckickens and skeep, and a kitcken wkere 
you could make cakes, and a garden witk lots 

of flowers and strawberries ” 

All wkite ?” asked Hal. 

No, of course not. Strawberries couldn’t 
be wkite, and flowers is all colors. ’Twas tke 
droind-room tkat was all wkite.” 

“ And tke milk and tke eggs. Zem is wkite,” 
said Hal triumpkantly. 

Very well. I didn’t say tkey wasn’t. But 
tke story goes on tkat tke little girl didn’t 
know kow to get tkere ; it was so far and so 
kigk up. So ske sat and cried all alone at tke 
window.” 

“ All alone, poor little girl,” said Hal, witk 
deep feeling. “ Kick, Peggy, kick, I’m doeing 
to cry ; make it come rigkt kick. Tke crying’s 
just coming.” 


THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL, 


25 


“ Make it wait a minute. I can’t make it 
come riglit all so quick,” said Peggy. “ It’s going 
to come, so make the crying wait. One day 
ske was crying d’edful, worse than never, ’cos 
tke sun had goned, and she couldn’t see the 
white cottage no more, and just then she heard 
something saying, ^ mew, mew,’ and it was a 
kitten outside the window, and it was just 
going to fall down and be killed.” 

“ That’s not coming right. I mu^^it cry,” said 
Hal. 

“ But she opened the window — there now, 
you see — and she pulled the kitten in, so it 
didn’t fall down, and it was so pleased it kissed 
her, and when it kissed her it turned into a 
fairy, and it touched her neck and made wings 
come, and then it opened the window again 
and flowed away with the little girl till they 
came to the white cottage, and then the little 
girl was quite happy for always.” 

“ Did the fairy stay with her always ?” asked 
Hal. 

No ; fairies never does like that. They go 
back to fairyland. But the little girl had nice 
milk and eggs and cakes, and she made nose- 
gays with the flowers, and the sun was always 
shining, so she was quite, quite happy.” 

Her couldn’t be happy all alone,” said Hal. 


26 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


I don’t like zat story, Peggy. You haven’t 
made it nice at all. It’s a nonsense story.” 

Hal wriggled about and seemed very cross. 
Poor Peggy was not so much indignant as dis- 
tressed at failing in her efforts to amuse him. 
What was the matter ? It couldn’t be that he 
was getting sleepy — it was far too early for his 
morning sleep. 

It isn’t a nonsense story,” she said, and she 
glanced toward the window as she spoke. 
Yes, the sun was shining brightly, the morning 
clouds had quite melted away ; it was going to 
be a fine day after all. And clear and white 
gleamed out the spot on the distant hill which 
Peggy loved to gaze at ! Come here, Hal,” 
she said, getting on to her feet and helping Hal 
on to his, “ come with me to the window and 
you’ll see if it’s a nonsense story. Only 
you’re never to tell nobody. It’s Peggy’s own 
secret.” 

Hal forgot his crossness in a minute ; he felt 
so proud and honored. Peggy led him to the 
window. It was not a very pretty prospect ; 
they looked out on to a commonplace street, 
houses on both sides, though just opposite 
there was a little variety in the shape of an 
old-fashioned, smoke-dried garden. Beyond 



dvbovc tUi 

to[>5 of cvll tini hou5£s 

cl£^vr faint', 

W(XS now tobi 5iin 
rKi oatlini of c\ ran££ 
of Kills, 50 5 o[r{y gta^- 
blu2 in thi distance 
J'bcvf but* foT tbi 

otlaT I ini niv£r 

cKan^iVi^ in its |ot7ti 
ont could Easily Kay£ 
farvccEo/ i^ was only tKt of acjuickfy foas^ss- 

• n^ olouds. l^owiv^r, knEW 

loLtt^r. 

“ StE, Hal.*' sUi said, *^ovEr tKiri^ far, far a* 
way, nu^ in fbc sky, does you 5ii t‘Ka^ 
bluiy Kill ? 


/ 


i 




THE WHITE 8P0T ON THE HILL. 


27 


that again, more houses, more streets, stretch- 
ing away out into suburbs, and somewhere 
beyond all that again the mysterious, beautiful, 
enchanting region which the children spoke 
of and believed in as the country,” not 
really so far off after all, though to them it 
seemed so. 

And above the tops of all the houses, clear 
though faint, was now to be seen the outline 
of a range of hills, so softly gray -blue in the 
distance that but for the irregular line never 
changing in its form, one could easily have 
fancied it was only the edge of a quickly 
passing ridge of cloudsi Peggy, however, 
knew better. 

See, Hal,” she said, over there, far, far 
away, neely in the sky, does you see that bluey 
hill?” 

Of course he saw, agreeing so readily that 
Peggy was sure he did not distinguish rightly, 
which was soon proved to be the case by his 
announcing that The ’ill were sailing away.” 

“No, no, it isn’t,” Peggy cried. “You’ve 
mustooked a cloud, Hal. See now,” and by 
bringing her own eyes exactly on a level with 
a certain spot on the glass she was able to 
place his correctly, “ just over that little bubble 
in the window you can see it. Its top goes up 


28 


LITTLE MI88 PEGGY. 


above the bubble, and then down and then up 
again, and it never moves like the clouds — 
does you see now, Hallie dear ?” 

“ Zes, zes,” said Hal, but it’s a weeny little 
’ill, Peggy.” 

“No, dear,” his sister explained. “It only 
looks little ’cos it’s so far away. You is too 
little to understand, dear, but it’s true that it’s 
a big hill, neely a mounting, Hal. Mamma 
told me.” 

“ Oh,” said Hal, profoundly impressed and 
quite convinced. 

“ Mountings is old hills, or big hills,” Peggy 
continued, herself slightly confused. “ I don’t 
know if they is the papas and mammas of the 
little ones, but I think it’s something like that, 
for onst in church I heard the clergymunt read 
that the little hills jumped for joy, so they must 
be the children. I’ll ask mamma, and then I’ll 
tell you. I’m not quite sure if he meaned the 
same kind, for these hills never jumps — that’s 
how mamma told me to know they w’asn’t 
clouds.” 

“ Zes,” said Hal, “ but go on about the secret, 
Peggy. Hal doesn’t care about the ’ills.” 

“ But the secret’s on the hills,” replied Peggy. 
“ Look more, Hal — does you see a teeny, teeny 


THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 


29 


white spot on the bluey hill ? Higher up than 
the bubble, but not at the top quite 

Hal’s eyes were good and his faith was great. 

Zes, zes,” he cried. “ I does see it — kite 
plain, Peggy.” 

“ W ell, Hallie,” Peggy continued, that’s my 
secret.” 

“ Is it the fairy cottage, and is the little girl 
zere now ?” Hal asked breathlessly. 

Peggy hesitated. 

“ It is a white cottage,” she said. Mamma 
told me. She looked at it through a seeing 
pipe.” 

What’s a seeing pipe?” Hal interrupted. 

“ I can’t tell you just now. Ask mamma to 
show you hers some day. It’s too difficult to 
understand, but it makes you see things plain. 
And mamma found out it was reelly a cottage, 
a white cottage, all alone up on the hill — 
isn’t it sweet of it to be there all alone, 
Hallie ? And she said I might think it was a 
fairy cottage and keep it for my own secret, 
only I’ve telled you, Hal, and you mustn’t tell 
nobody.” 

“And is it all like baby’s best sash, and 
are there cakes and f’owers and cows ?” asked 
Hal. 


30 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


I don’t know. I made up the story, you 
know, Hal, to please you. I’ve made lots — 
mamma said I might. But I’ve never see’d the 
cottage, you know. I dare say it’s beautiful, 
white and gold like the story, that’s why I said 
it. It does so shine when the sun’s on it — look, 
look, Hal !” 

For as she spoke the sunshine had broken 
out again more brilliantly ; and the bright, thin 
sparkle which often dazzles one between the 
showers in unsettled weather, lighted up that 
quarter of the sky where the children were 
gazing, and, to their fancy at least, the white 
spot caught and reflected the rays. 

Oh, zes, I see,” Hal repeated. “ But, Peggy, 
I’d like to go zere and to see it. Can’t we go, 
Peggy ? It would be so nice, nicer than making 
up stories. And do you think — oh, do you 
think, Peggy, that p’r’aps there’s pigs zere, real 
pigs ?” 

He clasped his hands entreatingly as he 
spoke. Peggy must say there were pigs. Poor 
Peggy — it was rather a come, down after her 
fairy visions. But she was too kind to say any- 
thing to vex Hal. 

I thought you said pigs was silly,” she ob- 
jected gently. 


THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL. 


31 


“ Playing pigs to make baby langb is silly.” 
said Hal, and pigs going to market and stayin’ 
at ’ome and roast beefin’ is d’edful silly. But 
not real pigs.” 

Oh, well, then, you may think pigs if you 
like,” said Peggy. I don’t think I will, but 
that doesn’t matter. You may have them in 
the cottage if you like, only you mustn’t tell 
Thor and Terry and Baldwin about it.” 

‘‘ I won’t tell, on’y you might have them 
too,” said Hal discontentedly. You’re not 
kind, Peggy.” 

Don’t let’s talk about the cottage any more, 
then,” said Peggy, though her own eyes were 
fixed on the far-off white spot as she spoke. 

I think p’r’aps, Hallie, you’re rather too little 
to care about it.” 

I’m not,” said Hal, “ and I do care. But 
I do like pigs, real pigs. I sawed zem in the 
country.” 

^^You can’t remember,” said Peggy. “It’s 
two whole years since we was in the real 
country, Hallie, and you’re only three and a 
half. I know it’s two years. I heard mamma 
say so to papa, so you wasn’t two then.” 

“ But I did see zem and I do ’amember, ’cos 
of pictures,” said Hal, 


38 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


Oh, yes, dear, there is pictures of pigs in 
your scrap-book, I know,” I^eggy agreed. 

You get it now and we’ll look for them.” 

Off trotted Hal, returning in a minute with 
his book, and for a quarter of an hour or so his 
patient little sister managed to keep him happy 
and amused. At the end of that time, however, 
he began to be cross and discontented again. 
Peggy did not know what to make of him this 
morning, he was not often so difficult to please. 
She was very glad when nurse came in to say 
it was now his time for his morning sleep, and 
though Hal grumbled and scolded and said he 
was not sleepy she carried him off, and Peggy 
was left in peace. 

She was not at a loss to employ herself. 
At half -past eleven she usually went down to 
mamma for an hour’s lessons, and it must be 
nearly that time now. She got her books 
together and sat looking over the one verse 
she had to learn, her thoughts roving never- 
theless in the direction they loved best — 
away over the chimneys and the smoke ; away, 
away, up, up to the fairy cottage on the distant 
hill. 


^TUE CHILDREN AT THE BACK.' 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

“the childeen at the back.” 

seems to me if I^d money enough. 

My heart would be made of different stuff; 

I would think about those whose lot is rough.” 

— Mrs. Hawtrey. 

These children’s home was not in a very 
pretty place. In front, as I have told you, it 
looked out on to a rather ugly street, and there 
were streets and streets beyond that again — 
streets of straight, stiff, grim-looking houses, 
some large and some small, but all commonplace 
and dull. And in and out between these bigger 
streets were narrower and still uglier ones, 
scarcely indeed to be called streets, so dark and 
poky were they, so dark and poky were the 
poor houses they contained. 

The street immediately behind the chil- 
dren’s house, that on to which its back windows 
looked out, was one of these poorer ones, though 
not by any means one of the most miserable. 


34 


LITTLE-MISS PEGGY. 


And Ugly though it was, Peggy was very fond 
of gazing out of the night nursery window on 
to this street, especially on days when it was 
“ no use,” as she called it to herself, looking out 
at the front ; that meant, as I dare say you can 
guess, days on which it was too dull and cloudy 
to see the distant hills, and above all the white 
spot, which had taken such hold on her fancy. 
For she had found out some very interesting 
things in that dingy street. Straight across 
from the night nursery window was a very 
queer miserable sort of a shop, kept by an old 
Irishwoman whose name was Mrs. Whelan. It 
is rather absurd to call it a shop, though it was 
a place where things were bought and sold, for 
the room in which these buyings and sellings 
went on was Mrs. Whelan’s kitchen, and bed- 
room, and sitting-room, and wash-house, as well 
as her shop ! It was on the first floor, and you 
got up to it by a rickety staircase — more like 
a ladder indeed than a staircase, and under- 
neath it on the ground-floor lived a cobbler, 
with whom Mrs. Whelan used to quarrel at 
least once a day, though as he was a patient, 
much-enduring man, the quarrels never went 
further than the old Irishwoman’s opening her 
window and shouting down all manner of 





nr was 
a itv: 


H 


vaihtr a 
Tj til * look I 
olj worn An; 
iUt al wa^^ 
worr a short 
bid- ^owv^ , 
tkat is a loosL 
kind of jacki-t 


^ t'ou<gkly drawn 

<n at tki wait>tj of waskid out Cot^on,wk^c^v 
r\i\/ir looked clian , and ^£t 5omtkov\/ nivzr 
Sitmid to ^it mucK dirtier, a bUck stuff 
petticoat, and a ca[> witk j^r,'(ls 

wk Tek (^ults kid kir -face unless you 
v£ry mar Kir, and Wc\5 (ginirall^ to ti 

5£in witk a |oip£ m kir moutk . Hiv 
voice wa5 botk loud and sKnH ancJ 
wktn was Itn a temper you Could 

almost kiar wKat sKi said. tKouc^k tWi . 
huCiiry wiv^dtow v\/a3 -shoct. * 



*^THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK:’ 35 

scoldings to the poor fellow, of which he took 
no notice. 

On Sundays the cobbler used to tidy him- 
self up and go off to church like a gentleman,” 
the boys said. But Mrs. Whelan, alas ! never 
tidied herself up, and never went to church, 
and though she made a great show of putting 
a shutter across that part of the window which 
showed “ the shop,” nurse had more than once 
shaken her head when the children were 
dressing for church, and told them not to look 
over the way, she was sadly afraid the shutting 
or shattering up was all a pretense, and that 
Mrs. Whelan* made a good penny by her Sunday 
sales of tobacco and pipes to the men, or maybe 
of sugar, candles, or matches to careless house- 
keepers who had let their stock run out too 
late on Saturday night. 

She was rather a terrible- looking old woman ; 
she always wore a short bed-gown, that is, a 
loose kind of jacket roughly drawn in at the 
waist, of washed-out cotton, which never looked 
clean, and yet somehow never seemed to get 
much dirtier, a black stuff petticoat, and a cap 
with flapping frills which quite hid her face 
unless you were very near her, and she was 
generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth. 


36 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Her voice was both loud and shrill, and when 
she was in a temper you could almost hear 
what she said, though the nursery window was 
shut. All the neighbors were afraid of her, 
and in consequence treated her with great 
respect. But like most people in this world, 
she had somre good about her, as you will 
hear. 

Good or bad, the children, Peggy especially, 
found Mrs. Whelan very interesting. Peggy 
had never seen her nearer than from the 
window, and though she had a queer sort of 
wish to visit the shop and make closer acquaint- 
ance with the old crone, she was far too fright-* 
ened of her to think of doing so really. The 
boys, however, had been several times inside 
Mrs. Whelan’s dwelling, and used to tell 
wonderful stories of the muddle of things it 
contained, and of the old woman herself. They 
always bought their soap-bubble pipes there, 
three a penny,” and would gladly have bought 
some of the taffy -balls and barley-sugar which 
were also to be had, if this had not been 
strictly forbidden by mamma, in spite of their 
grumbling. 

“ It isn’t so very dirty, mamma,” they said, 
and you get a lot more for a penny than in a 
proper shop/* 


*^THE CHILDREN AT TEE BACK:^ 37 

But mamma would not give in. She knew 
what Mrs. Whelan was like, as she used some- 
times to go over herself to talk to the poor old 
woman, but that, of course, was a different 
matter. 

I don’t much like your going there at all,” 
she would say, ‘^but it pleases her for us to 
buy some trifles now and then.” 

But in her heart she wished very much that 
they were not obliged to live in this dreary and 
ugly town, where their poor neighbors were 
rarely the sort of people she could let her 
children know anything of. Mamma, in her 
childhood, had lived in that fairyland she called 
“the country,” and so had papa, and they still 
looked forward to being there again, though for 
the present they were obliged to make the best 
of their home in a dingy street. 

It seemed much less dull and dingy to the 
children than to them, however. Indeed, I 
don’t think the children ever thought about it 
at all. The boys were busy at school, and 
found plenty of both work and play to make 
the time pass quickly, and Peggy, who might 
perhaps have been a little dull and lonely in 
her rather shut-up life, had her fancies and her 
wonders — her interesting things to look at both 


38 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


at the front and the back of the house, and 
mamma to tell all about them to ! And this 
reminds me that I have not yet told you what 
it was she was most fond of watching from the 
night nursery window. It was not Mrs. Whe- 
lan or the cobbler ; it was the tenants of the 
third or top story of the rickety old house — the 
family she always spoke of to herself as “ the 
children at the back.” 

Such a lot of them there were. It was long 
before Peggy was able to distinguish them all 
from each other,” as she said, and it took her 
longer still to make names by which she could 
keep a clear list in her head. The eldest looked 
to her quite grown-up, though in reality she 
was about thirteen ; she was a big red-cheeted 
girl, though she lived in a town ; her arms were 
red too, poor thing, especially in winter, for 
they were seldom or never covered, and she 
seemed to be always at work, scrubbing or 
washing, or running out to fetch two or three 
of the little ones in from playing in the gutter. 
Peggy called her '' Eeddy,” and though it was 
the girl’s red cheeks and arms which made her 
first choose the name, in a while she came to 
think of it as meaning “ ready” also, for Peggy 
did not know much about spelling as yet, and 


THE CHILDREN AT THE BACKy 


39 


the thought iu her mind of the look of the 
two words was the same. For a good while 
Peggy fancied that Reddy was the nurse or 
servant of the family, but one day when she 
said something of the kind to her own nurse 
she was quickly put right. 

Their servant, my dear ! Bless you, no. 
How could they afford to keep a servant ? 
They’ve hard enough work to keep themselves, 
striving folk though they seem. There’s such 
a many of them, you see, and mostly so little — 
save ‘that big girl and the sister three below 
her, there’s none really to help the mother. 
And the cripple must be a great charge.” 

What’s the cripple, nursey ?” Peggy asked. 

“ Why, Miss Peggy, haven’t you noticed the 
white-faced girl on crutches? You must have 
seen her dragging up and down in front of the 
house of a fine day.” 

Oh, yes,” said Peggy, “ but 1 didn’t know 
that was called cripple. And she’s quite little ; 
she’s as little as me, nurse !” 

“ She’s older than she looks, poor thing,” said 
nurse — maybe oldest of them all.” 

This, however, Peggy could not believe. 
She fixed in her own mind that “ Crippley ” 
came after the two boys who were evidently 


40 


LITTLE MISS PEQGT, 


next to Eeddy — she did not give the boys 
names, for they did not interest her as much as 
the girls. Having so many brothers of her 
OAvn and no sister, it seemed to her as if a sister 
mnst be the very nicest thing in the world, and 
of all the children at the back the two that she 
liked most to watch were a pair of little girls 
about three years older than herself, whom she 
named “ The Smileys,” “ Brown Smiley ” and 
Light Smiley ” when she thought of them 
separately, for though they were very like 
each other the color of their hair was different. 
They were very jolly little girls, poorly clad and 
poorly fed though they were, taking life easily, 
it seemed — too easily in the opinion of their 
eldest sister Keddy, and the sister next above 
them — between them and Crippley, according 
to Peggy’s list. This sister was the only one 
whose real name Peggy knew, by hearing it so 
frequently shouted after her by the mother 
and Keddy. For this child, “Mary-Hann,” 
was rather deaf, though it was not till long 
afterward that Peggy found this out. 

^^ Mary-Hann” was a patient, stupid sort of 
girl, a kind of second in command to Reddy, 
and she was like Keddy in appearance, except 
that she was several sizes smaller and thinner, 


THE CHILDREN AT THE BAGKr 


41 


SO that even supposing that her arms were as 
red as her sister’s they did not strike one in 
the same way. 

Below the Smileys came another boy, who 
was generally to be seen in their company, and 
who, according to Peggy, rejoiced in the name 
of Tip.” And below Tip were a few babies, 
in reality I believe more than three, during the 
years through which their little over-the-way 
neighbor watched them. But even she was 
obliged to give up hopes of classifying the 
babies, for there always seemed to be a baby 
about the same age, and one or two others just 
struggling into standing or rather tumbling 
alone, and forever being picked up by Keddy 
or her attendant sprite Mary-Hann. 

Such were Peggy’s children at the back.” 
And many a dull day, when it was too rainy to 
go for a walk and too cloudy to be “ any use ” 
to gaze out of the front of the house, did these 
poor children, little as they guessed it, help to 
make pass more quickly and pleasantly for the 
sisterless maiden. Many a morning when Hal 
and baby were asleep and nurse was glad to 
have an hour or so for a bit of ironing, or some 
work of the kind down in the kitchen — for my 
Peggy’s papa and mamma were not rich and 


42 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


could not keep many servants, so that nurse^ 
though she was plain and homely in her ways, 
was of far more use than a smarter young 
woman to them — many a morning did the little 
girl, left in the night nursery in charge of her 
sleeping brothers, take up her stand at the 
window which overlooked Mrs. Whelan’s and 
the cobbler and the Smileys with all their 
brothers and sisters. There was always some- 
thing new to see or to ask nurse to explain 
afterward. For ever so long it took up Peggy’s 
thoughts, and gave much conversation in the 
nursery to plan ” how the ten or eleven chil- 
dren, not to speak of the papa and mamma, 
could all find place in two rooms. It kept 
Peggy awake at night, especially if the weather 
happened to be at all hot or close, to think 
how very uncomfortable poor Eeddy and Crip- 
pley and Mary-Hann and the Smileys must be, 
all sleeping in one bed, as nurse said was too 
probably the case. And it was the greatest 
relief to her mind, and to nurse’s too, I do 
believe, to discover by means of some cautious 
inquiries of the cobbler when nurse took him 
over some of the boys’ boots to mend, that the 
family was not so short of space as they had 
feared. 


^^THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK:* 43 

They’ve two other rooms, Miss Peggy, as 
doesn’t show to the front,” said nurse, two 
attics with sloping windows in the roof to 
their back again. And they’re striving folk, 
he says, as indeed any one may see for their- 
selves.” 

Then how shall we plan it now, I wonder,” 
said Peggy, looking across to the Smileys’ 
mansion with new respect. But nurse had 
already left the room, and perhaps, now she 
was satisfied their neighbors were not quite so 
much to be pitied, would scarcely have had 
patience to listen to Peggy’s wonderings ” 
about them. So the little girl went on to 
herself : 

I should think the downstairs room is the 
papa’s and mamma’s and the teeniest baby’s, 
and perhaps Crippley sleeps there, as she’s ill, 
like me when I had the hooping-cough and I 
couldn’t sleep and mamma kept jumping up to 
me. And then the big boys and Tip has one 
room — ^ ticks,’ nurse calls the rooms with win- 
dows in the roof. I think I’d like to sleep in 
a ^ tick ’ room ; you must see the stars so plain 
without getting up; and — and — let me see, 
Keddy and Mary-Hann and the Smileys and the 
old babies — no, that’s too many — and I don’t 


44 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


know kow many old babies there is. We’ll 
say one — if there’s another it must be a boy 
and go in the boys’ tick — and that makes Keddy 
and Mary ” 

“ Miss Peggy, your mamma’s ready for your 
lessons,” came the housemaid’s voice at the 
door, and Peggy hurried ,off. But she was 
rather in a brown-study at her lessons that 
morning. Mamma could not make her out at 
all, till at last she shut up the books for a 
minute and made Peggy tell her where her 
thoughts were wool-gathering. 

^^Not so very far away, mamma dear,” said 
Peggy, laughing. She never could help laugh- 
ing when mamma said funny things like that.” 
“ Not so very far away. I was only wondering 
about the children at the back.” 

She called them always “ the children at the 
back” when she spoke of them — for even to 
mamma she would have felt shy of telling her 
own names for them. And then she went on 
to repeat what nurse had heard from the 
cobbler. Mamma agreed that it was very in- 
teresting, and she too was pleased to think 
the children at the back’s house,” as Peggy 
called it, was more commodious than might 
have been expected. But still, even such 


**THE CHILDREN AT TEE BACK:* 45 

interesting tilings as that must not be allowed 
to interfere with lessons. Peggy must put it 
all out of her head till they were done with, 
and then mamma would talk about it with 
her. 

Only, mamma,” said Peggy, “ I don’t know 
what com — commo — that long word you said, 
means.” 

I should not have used it, perhaps,” said 
mamma. “ And yet I don’t know. If we only 
used the words you understand already, you 
would never learn new ones — eh, Peggy ! Com- 
modious just means large, and not narrow and 
squeezed up.” 

Peggy nodded her head, which meant that 
she quite understood, and then the lessons went 
on smoothly again. 

When they were over, mamma talked about 
poor people, especially about poor children, to 
Peggy, and explained to her more than she had 
ever done before about what being poor really 
means. It made Peggy feel and look rather 
sad, and once or twice mamma was afraid she 
was going to cry, which, of course, she did not 
wish her to do. But Peggy choked down the 
crying feeling, because she knew it would make 
her mother sorry and would not do the poor 
people any good. 


46 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Mamma,” she said, it neely makes me cry, 
but I won’t. But when I’m big can’t I do 
something for the children at the back ?” 

“ They won’t be chil dren then, Peggy dear. 
You may able to do something for them with- 
out waiting for that. I’ll think about it. I 
don’t fancy they are so very poor. As I have 
been telling you, there are many far poorer. 
But I dare say they have very few pleasures 
in their lives. We might try to think of a little 
sunshine for them now and then.” 

The Smile ” began Peggy, but she 

stopped suddenly, growing red — ‘^the littler 
ones do play a good deal in the gutter, mamma 
dear,” she said, anxious to state things quite 
fairly ; but I don’t think that’s very nice play, 
and the sun very seldom shines there. And 
Bed — the big ones, mamma dear, and the one 
that goes on — I can’t remember the name of 
those sticks.” 

“ Crutches,” said mamma. 

Yes, crutches — her never has no plays at all, 
I don’t think. She’d have more sunshine at 
the ’nother side of our house, mamma dear.” 

Mamma smiled. Peggy did not understand 
that mamma did not mean sunshine ” exactly 
as she took it ; she forgot, too, that of actual 


^'THE CHILDREN AT THE BACKr 47 

sunshine more fell on the back street than she 
thought of. For it was only on dull or rainy 
days that she looked out much on the children 
at the back. On fine days her eyes were busy 
in another direction. 

I’ll think about it,” said mamma. So 
Peggy for the present was satisfied. 

This talk about the Smileys and the rest of 
them had been a day or two before the morning 
on which we first saw Peggy — the morning 
that Thor tried so to make fun of her about 
choosing sugar in her bread-and-milk, because 
it was cold. Mamma had not said any more 
about the children at the back, and this partic 
ular morning Peggy herself was not thinking 
very much about them. Her head was running 
a good deal on the white cottage and all her 
fancies about it, and she was feeling rather dis- 
appointed that she had not succeeded better 
in amusing Hal by her stories. 

It must be, I suppose,” she said to herself, 
that he’s rather too little for that kind of 
fancy stories. I wonder if Baldwin would like 
them ; it would be nice to have somebody to 
make fancies with me.” 

But somehow Baldwin and the fairy cottage 
did not seem to match. And Thor and Terry 


48 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


were both much too big — Thor would laugh at 
her, and Terry would think it waste of time ; 
he had so many other things to amuse himself 
about. No, Peggy could not think of any one 
who would understand,” she decided with a 
sigh ! 


FANCIES, 


49 


CHAPTER IV. 

“ E E A L ” FANCIES. 

‘^Mine be a cot beside the hill.” 

— Samuel Eogers. 

Just then came the usual summons to her 
lessons. Mamma was waiting for her little girl 
in the corner of the drawing-room, where she 
always sat when she was teaching Peggy. It 
was a very nice corner, near the fire, for though 
it was not winter it was rather chilly, and 
mamma often felt cold. Thor used to tell her 
that she should take a good run or have a game 
of cricket to warm her ; it *would be much 
better than sitting near the fire. Peggy thought 
it was rather unkind of Thor to say so, but 
mamma only laughed at him, so perhaps it was 
just his boy way of speaking. 

Peggy said her lessons quite well, but she 
looked rather grave ; no smiles lighted up her 
face, and when lessons were over she sat still 
without speaking, and seemed as if she scarcely 


50 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


knew wkat ske wanted to do do with her- 
self. 

Is there anything the matter, dear ?” mam- 
ma asked. 

“ I’m rather tired, I think, mamma,” Peggy 
replied. 

Tired !” mamma repeated, in some surprise. 
It wasn’t often that Peggy talked of being 
tired. “ What is that with ? You’ve not been 
worrying yourself about the children who live 
over Mrs. Whelan’s, I hope ? You mustn’t do 
that, you know, dear ; it would do you harm 
and them no good.” 

For mamma knew that Peggy sometimes did 
“ worry ” about things — “ Once she takes a 
thing in her head she’ll work herself up so, for 
all she seems so quiet,” nurse would say. 

“ No, mamma dear,” Peggy replied ; “ I’m 
not tired because of that. I like thinking 
about the children at the back. I wish ” 

What ?” said mamma. 

“ I wish I’d sisters like them. I’m rather 
lonely, mamma. I do think God might have 
gaved one sister to Peggy, and not such a great 
lot to the children at the back.” 

“ But you have your brothers, my dear little 
girl. You might have been an only child.” 


•BEAL » FANCIES. 


51 


The big ones is always neely at school, and 
Hal’s too little to understand. It’s Hal that’s 
tired me, mamma dear. He was so d’edfully 
cross afore nurse put him to bed.” 

“ Cross, was he ?” said mamma. “ I’m afraid 
he must be getting those last teeth. He may 
be cross for some time; if so, it would not do 
to leave him.” She seemed to be speaking to 
herself, but when she caught side of Peggy’s 
puzzled face she stopped. “Tell me about 
Hal, dear,” she went on. “ What was it that 
tired you so ?” 

“ I was trying to amuse him and tell him 
stories about my white cottage up on the hill, 
and he was so cross. He couldn’t understand, 
and he said they was ^ nonsense ’ stories.” 

“ He is too little, perhaps, to care for fancies,” 
said her mother consolingly. “ You must wait 
till he is a little older, Peggy dear.” 

“ But when he’s older he’ll be a boy, mam- 
ma,” said Peggy ; “ he’ll be like Thor and Terry, 
who don’t care for things like that, or Baldwin, 
who thinks stories stupid. Oh, mamma, I wish 
I had a sister. That’s what I want,” she added, 
with conviction. 

Mamma smiled. 

“ Poor Peggy,” she said I’m afraid it can’t 


62 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


be helped. You can never have a sister near 
your own age, and I’m afraid a baby sister, even 
if you had one, would be no good.” 

“ Oh, no, we’ve had enough babies,” said 
Peggy decidedly. But, mamma, mightn’t 
there be some little girl who’d play with me 
like a sister ? If there is a fairy living in that 
cottage, mamma, how I do wish she would find 
a little girl for me !” 

Mamma looked a very little bit troubled. 

a Peggy dear,” she said, “ you mustn’t let 
your fancies run away with you too far. I told 
you they would do you no harm if you kept 
plain in your head that they were fancies, but 
you mustn’t forget that. You know there 
couldn’t really be a fairy living in that little 
white cottage.” 

^^No,” Peggy agreed, “ I know that, mamma, 
because fairies really live in fairyland.” 

She looked up gravely into her mother’s 
face as she said so. Mamma could not help 
laughing. 

“Fairies, really,” she said, “ live in Peggy’s 
funny little head, and in many other funny little 
heads, I have no doubt. But nowhere ” 

“ Mamma, mamma,” Peggy interrupted, put- 
ting her fingers in her ears as she spoke, “ I 


you till mi wla,^'^' r^t litl'k 
VvKi^^ hou5i i$ n}ly liki, tkm? 
If you will , 1 II promisi nof* 
to tkink thtris fain'D thiri 

— only \ 

Only wkat cJiixr ? *’ 

If you cion^ m'lnd, said 
Px^^y, V^ry cxmciouS not to 
^^Kurt hir motkirs fulin^5 , 
Ibl ratkt r not havi. pigs. 1 

don’t think 1 4kt jot^s 





I 




1 








‘ItSAL» FANCIES, 


53 


won’t listen. You mustn’t, mustn’t say that. I 
must have my fairies, mamma. I’ve no sisters.” 

Well, keep them in fairyland, then, or at 
least only let them out for visits now and then. 
But don’t mix them up with real things too 
much, or you will get quite a confusion, and 
never be sure if you’re awake or dreaming.” 

Peggy seemed to consider this over very 
seriously. After a minute or two she lifted her 
face again, and looked straight into her 
mother’s with her earnest gray eyes. 

“ Mamma dear,” she began, will you tell me 
what the little white house is reely like, then ? 
If you will. I’ll promise not to think there’s 
fairies there — only ” 

Only what, dear ?” 

If you don’t mind,” said Peggy, very anx- 
ious not to hurt her mother’s feelings, I’d 
rather not have pigs. I don’t think I like 
pigs very much.” 

“ Well, we needn’t have pigs, then. But re- 
member I can only ^ fancy ’ it. I’ve never seen 
that particular cottage, you see, Peggy. But I 
have seen other cottages in Brackenshire, and 
so I can fancy what it most likely is. You see, 
there are different kinds of fancying — there’s 
fancying that is all fancy, like fairy stories, and 


54 


LITTLE MISS PEOGY. 


there’s fancying that might be true and real, 
and that very likely is true and real. Do you 
understand ?” 

“ Yes,” said Peggy, drawing a deep breath. 
^^Well, mamma, go on real-fancying, please. 
What’s that place you’ve been at — Brat— what 
is it r 

“ Brackenshire,” mamma replied. That’s 
the name of that part of the country that we 
see far off, from the windows upstairs.” 

“ And is all the cottages white there, and is 
they very pretty ?” asked Peggy with deep in- 
terest. Oh, mamma, do tell me, quick.” 

don’t know if they’re all white, but I 
think they are mostly. And there are some 
pretty and some ugly. Of course it depends a 
good deal upon the people that live in them. If 
they’re nice, clean, busy people, who like their 
house to be neat and pretty, and work hard to 
keep it so, of course it’s much more likely to 
be so than if they were careless and lazy.” 

Oh,” said Peggy, clasping her hands. I 
do so hope my cottage has nice people living 
in it. I think it has, don’t you, mamma ? It 
looks so white.” 

‘‘My dear Peggy,” said mamma, smiling, 
“ we can’t tell, when it’s so far away. But we 
may hope so.” 


*^REAL ” FANCIES. 


55 


Yes,” said Peggy, “ we’ll hope so, and we’ll 
think so.” But then a rather puzzled look 
came over her face again, though she smiled 
too. Mamma,” she went on, ‘‘ there’s such a 
funny thing come into my head, only I don’t 
know -quite how to say it. I think that the far^ 
away helps to make it pretty — why is far-away 
so pretty, mamma ?” 

Mamma smiled again. 

“ I’m afraid I can’t tell you why. Wouldn’t 
it spoil some things if we knew the why of 
them, little Peggy ?” 

Peggy did not answer. This was another 
new thought for her, and rather a difficult one. 
She put it away in her mind, in one of the 
rather far-back cupboards there, and locked it 
up, to think about it afterward. 

“ Mamma,” she said coaxingly, I want you 
to tell me a real fancy about the cottage. It 
mil be so nice when I look at it to think it’s 
most likely reely like that.” 

Well, then, let us see,” mamma began. 

“Wait just one minute, mamma dear, till I’ve 
shut my eyes. First I must get the bluey hills 
and the white spot into them, and then I’ll shut 
them and see what you tell. Yes — that’s all 
right now.” 


56 


LITTLE MISa PEC GY. 


So mamma went on. ' , 

“ I fancy a cottage on the side of a hill. The 
cottage is white, of course, and the hill is green. 
Not very green — a kind of brown-green, for 
the grass is short and close, nibbled by the 
sheep and cows that find their living on the 
hill most of the year. The cottage is very 
white, for last summer it had a nice wash all 
over, and that lasts clean a good while in tlie 
country. There is a little low wall round it 
shutting it in from the hillside, and this wall 
is not very white, though it once was so, for it 
is covered with creeping plants, so that you 
can scarcely see what its own color is. At the 
front of the house there is a little garden, quite 
a tiny one — there are potatoes and gooseberry 
bushes and cabbages at one side, but in front 
of them are some nice old-fashioned flowers, 
and at the other side there are strawberry 
plants, and behind them some rose-bushes. In 
summer I am sure there will be some pretty 
roses.” 

Oh, how nice,” said Peggy ; go on, go on, 
please.” 

There is a funny little wooden shed behind 
the house, leaning against the wall, which has 
a door big enough for a child to go in by, or a 


^REAL ” FANCIES. 


57 


big person if they stooped down very much, 
and besides tbis it has a very little door in the 
wall, leading on to the hillside. Can you guess 
what the shed is for, Peggy, and what the tiny 
door is for ?” 

Peggy thought and thought, but her country 
knowledge w^as but scanty. 

“ I can’t think,” she said. It couldn’t 
be for pigs, ’cos there isn’t any in the cot- 
tage. Nor it couldn’t be for cows, ’cos cows is 
so big.” 

“ What should you say to cocks and hens, 
Peggy ? There are to be fresh eggs there, aren’t 
there ? And chickens sometimes. I rather 
think they take eggs and chickens to market, 
don’t they ?” 

Oh, yes, I’m sure they do. How stupid I 
am ! Of course the little wooden house is for 
cocks and hens. You’re making it lovelily, 
mamma. What is it like inside, and who lives 
in it ? I do so want to know.” 

Inside ?” said mamma. I’m almost afraid 
you might be disappointed, Peggy, if you’ve 
never been in a real cottage. There are so 
many that look very pretty outside and are not 
at all pretty inside. But at least we may think 
it is neat and clean. There are only two rooms, 


58 LITTLE MISS PEG&T. 

Peggy — a Mtclien whicli you go straight intOj 
and another room which opens out of it. The 
kitchen is very bright and pleasant ; there is a 
table before the window with some flower-pots 
on it, in which both winter and summer there 
are plants growing. There is a large cupboard 
of dark old wood standing against the wall, 
and a sort of sofa that is called a settle, with 
cushions covered with red cotton, standing near 
the fireplace. There are shelves, too, on wdiich 
stand some dishes and two or three shining pots 
and pans ; the ugly black ones are kept in a 
little back kitchen where most of the cooking 
is done, so that the front kitchen should be 
kept as nice as possible.” 

^^That makes another room, mamma dear. 
You said there was only two.” 

Oh, but it’s so very tiny you couldn’t call 
it a room. The second room is a bedroom, but 
the best pieces of furniture are kept there. 
There is a nice chest of drawers and a rocking- 
chair, and there is a very funny wooden cradle, 
standing right down on the floor, not at all like 
baby’s cot. And in this cradle is a nice, fat, 
bright-eyed little baby.” 

“ A baby,” said Peggy doubtfully. 

“ Yes, to be sure. There’s always a baby in 


^REAL^' FANCIES, 


59 


a cottage, unless you’d rather have a very old 
couple whose babies are grown-up men and 
women, out in the world.” 

^ No,” said Peggy, I don’t want that. A 
very old woman in a cottage would be razzer 
like a witch, or else it could make me think of 
Ked Riding Hood’s grandmother, and that is so 
sad. No, I don’t mind the baby if it has a nice 
mamma — but only one baby, pelease, mamma 
dear. I don’t want lots, like the children at 
the back ; they’re always tumbling about and 
sc’eaming so.” 

“ Oh, no, we won’t have it like that. We’ll 
only have one baby — a very contented, nice 
baby, and its mamma is very nice too. She’s 
got quite a pretty rosy face, and she stands at 
the door every morning to see her husband go 
olf to his work, and every evening to watch for 
him coming back again, and she holds the baby 
up in her arms and it laughs and crows.” 

^ Wes,” said Peggy, that’ll do. And the 
eggs and the chickens, mamma ?” 

“ Oh, yes, she takes great care of the cocks 
and hens, and never forgets to go outside the 
garden to feed them on the hill, and in the 
evening they all come home of themselves 
through the little door in the wall. There’s a 


60 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


very nice cat in tlie cottage too ; it sits purring 
on the front steps on fine days, as if it thought 
the cottage and garden and everything else be- 
longed to it. And ” 

But suddenly the clock struck. Up started 
mamma. 

Peggy, darling, I had no idea it was so late. 
And I have to go out the moment after 
luncheon, and I have still two letters to write. 
I am a greater baby than any of you ! Bun ofi, 
dear, and tell nurse I want to speak to her 
before I go out.” 

And to-morrow,” said Peggy, “ to-morrow, 
will you tell me some more about the white 
cottage, mamma I It is so nice — I don’t think 
you’re a baby at all, mamma. A baby couldn’t 
make it up so lovelily.” 

And Peggy set off upstairs in great content. 
The white spot would gave her more pleasure 
than ever, now that she knew what sort of real 
fancies to have about it. 

“ And to-morrow,” she said to herself, “ to- 
morrow mamma will tell me more, lots more. 
If I say my lessons very goodly, p’r’aps mamma 
will tell me some more every day. And p’r’aps 
Hallie would like those kinds better than about 
fairies, and wouldn’t call them nonsense 
stories.” 


*REAL*^ FANCIES 


61 


Poor little Peggy — ^Ho-morrow '' brought 
news which put her pretty fancies about the 
white cottage out of her head for awhile. 

She gave her mother’s message to nurse, and 
after dinner nurse went downstairs. When 
she came up again she looked rather grave, and 
Peggy thought perhaps she was unhappy about 
Hal, who was still cross and had bright red 
spots on his cheeks. 

Does you think poor Hallie is ill, nurse ?” 
asked Peggy in a low voice, for Hal not to 
hear. 

“ Ho, my dear, it’s only his teeth. But they’ll 
make him fractious for awhile, I’m afraid, and 
he’s not a very strong child, not near so strong 
as baby and the big boys.” 

“ Poor Hallie,” said Peggy, with great sym- 
pathy. I’ll be very good to him even if 
he is very cross, nurse.” 

Nurse did jiot answer for a minute, and she 
still looked very grave. 

Why do you look so sad, nurse, if it isn’t 
about Hal ?” asked Peggy impatiently. 

“Did I look sad. Miss Peggy? I didn’t 
know it. I was thinking about some things 
your mamma was speaking of to me.” 

“ Oh !” said Peggy, “ was it about our new 


62 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


frocks ? Mamma and you is always very busy 
wken we need new frocks, I know.” 

Yes, dear,” said nurse, but that was all. 

Then Peggy and Hal and nurse and baby 
went out for a walk. They did not go very 
far, for it was what nurse called a queer- 
tempered day. Between the gleams of blue 
sky and sunshine there came sharp little storms 
and showers. It was April weather, though 
April had not yet begun. 

Which way are we going ?” Peggy asked 
as they set olf, she and Hal hand in hand, just 
in front of nurse and the perambulator. She 
hoped nurse would say “ up Fernley Road,” 
because Fernley Road led straight on toward 
the hills — so at least it seemed to Peggy. 
Their street ran into Fernley Road at one end, 
so that Fernley Road was what is called at 
right angles with it, and Peggy felt sure that 
if you walked far enough along the road you 
could not but come to “ the beginning of the 
hills.” 

But to-day Peggy was to be disappointed. 

“We can’t go far. Miss Peggy, and we must 
go to Field’s about Master Hal’s new boots. It 
looks as if it might rain, so perhaps we’d better 
go straight there. You know the way, Miss 


^REAL*^ FANCIES, 


63 


• right on to the end of this street and 
then turn to the left.” 

P^ggy gave a little sigh, but trotted on 
quietly. Hal began grumbling. 

“ What is I to have new boots for ?” he said. 

doesn't want new boots.” 

Oh, Hal,” said Peggy, “ I think it’s very 
nice indeed to have new boots. They shine so, 
and sometimes they do make such a lovely 
squeaking.” 

But Hal wasn’t in a humor to be pleased 
with anything, so Peggy tried to change the 
subject. 

Nurse says we are to turn to the left at the 
end of this street,” she said. Hoes you know 
which is the left, Hal ? I do, ’cos of my pocket 
in my frock. First I feel for my pocket, and 
when it’s there I say ^ all right,’ and then I 
know that’s the right, and when it isn’t there I 
can’t say ^ all right,’ and so I know the side it 
isn’t at is the left.” 

Hal listened with some interest, but a slight 
tinge of contempt for feminine garments. 

“ Boys has pockets at each sides, so all boys’ 
sides is right,” he said. 

But Peggy was by this time in the midst of 
her researches for her pocket, so she did not 
argue the point. 


64 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


“ Here it is !” she exclaimed ; “ all right, so 
the nother side is left. This way, Hallie,” and 
very proud to show nurse that she had under- 
stood her directions, she led her little brother 
down the street into which they had now 
turned. 

There were shops in this street, which made 
it more amusing than the one in which the 
children lived, even though they had seen them 
so often that they knew pretty well all that 
was worth looking at in the windows — that is 
to say, in the picture-shops and the toy-shops, 
and perhaps in the confectioner’s. All others 
were passed by as a matter of course. Field’s, 
the shoemaker’s, was not quite so stupid as 
some, because under a glass shade, in the midst 
of all the real boots and shoes, were half a dozen 
pairs of dolls’ ones, which Peggy thought quite 
lovely, though apparently no one else was of 
her opinion, as the tiny things stayed there day 
after day without a single pair being sold. 
Peggy herself could remember them for what 
seemed to her a very long time, and Baldwin, 
who owned to having admired them when he 
was “ little,” assured her they had been there 
since she was quite a baby ; he could remember 
having run on ” to look at them in the days 


^REAL FANCIES. 


65 


when he and Terry had trotted in front and 
nurse had perambulated Peggy behind. 

The little boots and shoes came into Peggy’s 
mind just now, partly perhaps because Hal 
was hanging back so, and she was afraid he 
would be cross if she asked him to walk 
quicker. 

“ Let’s run on and look at the tiny shoes in 
Field’s window,” she said. “We can wait 
there till nurse comes up. to us. She’ll see 
us.” 

This roused Hal to bestir himself, and they 
were soon at the shoemaker’s. 

“ Isn’t they sweet ?” said Peggy. “ If I had 
a gold pound of my very own, Hal, I’d buy 
some of them.” 

“ Would you ?” said Hal doubtfully. “ No, 
if I had a gold pound I’d ” 

But just then nurse came up to them and 
they were all marched into the shop. 


66 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


CHAPTEE V. 

THE LITTLE EED SHOES. 

‘^Pif-paf Pottrie, what trade are yon? Are yon a 
tailor 

Better still!” A shoemaker?” 

— Bkothees Grimm. 

There was anotlier reason why the children 
liked Field’s shop. At the back of it was a 
sort of little room railed olf by a low wooden 
partition with curtains at the top, into which 
customers were shown to try oh and be fitted 
with new boots or shoes. This little room 
within a room had alw^ays greatly taken Peggy’s 
fancy ; she had often talked it over with her 
brothers, and wished they could copy it in 
their nursery. Inside it had comfortable 
cushioned seats all round, making it look like 
one of the large, square, cushioned pews still 
to be found in some old churches, pews which 
all children who have ever sat in them dearly 
love. 


THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 


67 


There was always some excitement in peep- 
ing into this little room to see if any one was 
already there ; if that were the case the chil- 
dren knew they should have to be “ tried on ” 
in the outer shop. To-day, however, there was 
no doubt about the matter — Miss Field, who 
acted as her father’s shop-woman, marshaled 
them all straight into the curtained recess with- 
out delay ; there was no one there — and when 
Peggy and Hal had with some difficulty twisted 
themselves on to the seats with as much for- 
mality as if they were settling themselves in 
church, and nurse had explained what they 
had come for, the girl began operations by 
taking off one of Hal’s boots to serve as a pat- 
tern for his size. 

The same make as these, I suppose ?” she 
asked. 

Ho, miss, a little thicker, I think. They’re 
to be good strong ones for country wear,” said 
nurse. 

Peggy looked up with surprise. 

For the country, nursie,” she said. He’ll 
have weared them out before it’s time for us 
to go to the country. It won’t be summer for 
a long while, and last year we didn’t go even 
when summer corned.” 


68 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, 
thougli smiling and good-natured, was not a 
special favorite of nurse’s ; she was too fond of 
talking, and she stood there now looking very 
much amused at Peggy’s remonstrance. 

“ If you didn’t go to the country last year, 
Miss Margaret,” said nurse, “ more reason that 
you’ll go this. But little girls can’t know 
everything.” 

Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She 
was just going to ask nurse what was the mat- 
ter, which would not have made things better, 
I am afraid, when baby changed the subject by 
bursting out crying. Poor baby — he did not 
like the little curtained-off room at all ; it was 
rather dark, and he felt frightened, and as was 
of course the most sensible thing to do under 
the circumstances, as he could not speak, he 
cried. 

Dear, dear,” said nurse, after vainly trying 
to soothe him, he doesn’t like being in here, 
the poor lamb. He’s frightened. I’ll never 
get him quiet here. Miss Peggy, love,” for- 
getting in her hurry the presence of Miss 
Field, for before strangers Peggy was always 
^^Miss Margaret,” with nurse, “I’ll have to 
put him back in his perambulator at the door 


THE LITTLE RED SHOES, 


69 


and if you’ll stand beside bim be’ll be quite 
content.” 

And nurse got up as sbe spoke. Peggy slid 
berself down slowly and reluctantly from ber 
seat ; sbe would bave liked to stay and watcb 
Hal being fitted witb boots, and sbe would 
bave liked still more to ask nurse wbat sbe 
meant by speaking of tbe country so long be- 
fore tbe time, but it was Peggy’s babit to do 
wbat sbe was told without delay, and sbe knew 
sbe could ask nurse wbat sbe wanted after- 
ward. So witb one regretful look back at tbe 
snug corner where Hal was sitting comfort- 
ably staring at bis stockinged toes, sbe trotted 
across tbe shop to tbe door where baby, quite 
restored to good humor, was being settled in 
his carriage. 

There now, he’ll be quite happy. Nurse 
will come soon, dear. Just let him stay here 
in the doorway ; be can see all tbe boots and 
shoes in tbe window — that will amuse him.” 

“Yes,” said Peggy, adding in ber own mind 
that sbe would bave a good look at tbe dear, 
tiny dolls’ ones and fix which sbe would like to 
buy if sbe bad tbe money. 

Baby did not interrupt ber ; be was quite 
content now be was out in tbe light and the 


70 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


open air, and amused himself after his own 
fashion by crowing and chuckling to the pass- 
ers-by. So Peggy stood still, her eyes fixed 
on the baby shoes. They were of all colors, 
black and red and bronze and blue — it was 
difficult to say which were the prettiest. 
Peggy had almost decided upon a red pair, 
and was wondering how much money it would 
take to buy them, when some one touched 
her on the shoulder. She looked up ; a 
lady was standing behind her, smiling in 
amusement. 

“ What are you gazing at so, my dear ? Is 
this your baby in the perambulator ? You 
had better wheel him a little bit further back, 
or may I do so for you ? — he has worked him- 
self too far into the doorway.” 

Peggy looked up questioningly in the lady’s 
face. Like many children, she did not like 
being spoken to by strangers in an un- 
ceremonious way ; she felt as if it were rather 
a freedom. 

But the face that met hers was too kind and 
bright and pleasant to resist, and though Peggy 
still looked grave, it was only that she felt 
rather shy. 

Yes,” she said, he’s mr baby. I was look- 



Bevby did not 

mtg.Tr apt ; 

cjulh con: 
tint now lai Wcvs 
out in tkg I 
and tUi ojoin air, 
and avnLASid l^im.* 


stif £Nft 2 .T tiis own ■fa.sKion L»^ crowing and 
clnuckling to ttnE pa55^r5-by. So 
stood still, Utr £^£s fixzd on L>a(y 3 ho£S. 

wLTi of all colpur5. Mack 2\nd rsJancI 
bron'Z£ and 't <Jifficult to say 

\A/lnich wa5- ■tk£ hril(Tij.5t 




THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 


71 


ing at those sweet little shoes. I didn’t see 
baby had pushed hisself away. Thank you,” 
as the lady gently moved the perambulator a 
little further to one side. 

“You and baby are not alone? Are you 
waiting for some one ?” she asked. 

“Nurse is having Hal tried on for new 
boots,” Peggy replied, “ and baby didn’t like 
the shop ’cos it were rather dark.” 

“ And so his kind little sister is taking care 
of him. I see,” said the lady. “ And what are 
the sweet little shoes you like so much to look 
at ? Are they some that would fit baby ?” 

“ Oh, no,” said Peggy, “they’d be too little for 
him. Baby is rather fat. Oh, no, it’s those 
under the glass basin turned upside down,” and 
she pointed to the dolls’ shoes. “ Aren’t they 
lovely ? I’ve seen them ever since I was quite 
little — I suppose they’d cost a great lot,” and 
Peggy sighed. 

“ Which do you think the prettiest ?” asked 
the lady. 

“ The red ones,” Peggy replied. 

“Well, I almost think I agree with you,” 
said the lady. “ Good-by, my ; dear don’t let 
baby run himself out into the street.” And 
with a kind smile she went on into the shop. 


72 LITTLE MISS PEQG F. 

She passed back again in a few minutes. 

Still there T' she said, nodding to Peggy, 
and then she made her way down the street 
and was soon out of sight. Peggy’s attention, 
since the lady had warned her, had been 
entirely given to baby, otherwise she might 
perhaps have noticed a very wonderful thing 
that had happened in the shop- window. The 
pair of red dolls’ shoes was no longer there ! 
They had been quietly withdrawn from the 
case in which they, with their companions, had 
spent a peaceful, but it must be allowed a 
rather dull life for some years. 

In another minute nurse and Hal made their 
appearance, and Hal had a parcel, which he 
was clutching tightly in both hands. 

My new boots is so shiny,” he said, I do 
so hope they’ll squeak. Does you think they 
will, nursie? But isn’t poor Peggy to have 
new boots, too ? Poor Peggy !” 

Peggy looked down at her feet. 

Mine isn’t wored out yet,” she said ; “ it 
would take all poor mamma’s money to buy 
new boots for us all.” 

“ Never fear,” said nurse, who heard rather a 
martyr tone in Peggy’s voice, “ you’ll not be 
forgotten, Miss Peggy. But, Master Hal, hadn’t 


THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 


73 


you better put your boots in the perambulator ? 
You’ll be tired of carrying them, for we’re not 
going straight home.” 

Hal looked as if he were going to grumble 
at this, but before he had time to say anything. 
Miss Field came hurrying out of the shop. 

“ Oh, you’re still here,” she said ; that’s all 
right. The lady who’s just left told father to 
give this little parcel to missie here,” and she 
held out something to Peggy, who was so aston- 
ished that for a moment or two she only stared 
at the girl without offering to take the tiny 
packet. 

“ For me ?” she said at last. 

^^Yes, missie, to be sure — for you, as I 
say.” 

Peggy took the parcel, and began slowly to 
undo it. Something red peeped out — Peggy’s 
eyes glistened — then her cheeks grew nearly 
as scarlet as the contents of the packet, and she 
seemed to gasp for breath as she held out for 
Hal and nurse to see the little red shoes which 
five minutes before she had been admiring under 
the glass shade. 

Nursie, Hal,” she exclaimed, see, oh, see ! 
The sweet little shoes — for me — for my very 
own.” 


74 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Nurse was only too ready to be pleased, but 
with the prudence of a “ grown-up ” person she 
hesitated a moment. 

Are you sure there’s no mistake, miss ?” she 
said anxiously. Do you know the lady’s 
name ? Is she a friend of missis’, I wonder ?” 

The girl shook her head. 

“ Can’t say, I’m sure,” she replied. “ She’s 
a stranger to us. She only just bought a 
pair of cork soles and these here. There’s 
no mistake, that I’m sure of. She must have 
seen the young lady was admiring of them.” 

Yes,” said Peggy, she asked r^e which was 
the prettiest, and I said the red ones.” 

You see !” said Miss Field to nurse. “Well, 
missie, I hope as they’ll lit Miss Dolly, and 
then you’ll give us your custom . when they’re 
worn out, won’t you ?” 

And with a good-natured laugh she turned 
back into the shop. 

“ It’s all right, nursie, isn’t it ? Do say it is. 
I may keep them ; they is mine, isn’t they ?” 
said Peggy, in very unusual excitement. 

Nurse still looked undecided. 

“ I don’t quite know what to say, dear,” 
she replied. “We must ask your mamma. I 
shouldn’t think she’d object, seeing as it was so 


THE LITTLE BED SHOES. 


75 


kindly meant. And we can’t give back the 
shoes now they’re bought and paid for. It 
wouldn’t be fair to the lady to give them back 
to Field just to be sold again. It wasn’t him 
she wanted to give a present to.” 

“ No,” said Peggy, trotting along beside the 
perambulator and clasping her little parcel as 
Hal was clasping his bigger one, it was me 
she wanted to please. She’s a very kind lady, 
isn’t she, nursie ? I’m sure they cost a great 
lot of money — p’r’aps a pound. Oh ! I do so 
hope mamma will say I may keep them for my 
very own. Can’t we go home now this minute 
to ask her ?” 

We shouldn’t find her in if we did,” said 
nurse, and we’ve had nothing of a walk so far. 
But don’t you worry. Miss Peggy. I’m sure 
your mamma will not mind.” 

Peggy’s anxious, eager little face calmed down 
at this ; a corner of the paper in which her 
treasures were wrapped up was torn. She saw 
the scarlet leather peeping out, and a gleam of 
delight danced out of her eyes ; she bent her 
head down and kissed the speck of bright color 
ecstatically, murmuring to herself as she did so, 
“ Oh, how happy I am !” 

Nurse overheard the words. 


76 


LITTLE MISS PEOOY. 


Missis will never have the heart to take 
them from her, poor dear,” she thought. “ She’ll 
be only too pleased for Miss Peggy to have 
something to cheer her up when she has to be 
told about our going.” 

And Peggy, in blissful ignorance of any 
threatening cloud to spoil her pleasure, 
marched on, scarcely feeling the ground be- 
neath her feet ; as happy as if the tiny red 
shoes had been a pair of fairy ones to lit her 
own little feet. 

Mamma was not at home when they got in, 
even though they made a pretty long round, 
coming back by Fernley Poad, which, how- 
ever, Peggy did not care about as much as 
when they set off by it. For coming back, of 
course she could not see the hills without 
turning round, nor -could she have the feeling 
that every step was taking her nearer to 
them. The weather was clearing when they 
came in ; from the nursery window the sky 
toward the west had a faint flush upon it, 
which looked as if the sunset were going to be 
a rosy one. 

“ Ped at night,” Peggy said to herself as she 
glanced out ; “ nursie, that means a fine day, 
doesn’t it ?” 


THE LITTLE RED SHOES, 


77 


■ “ So they say,” nnrse replied. 

Tliqn it’ll be a fine day to-morrow, and I’ll 
see the cottage, and I’ll put the little shoes on 
the window-sill, so that they shall see it too 
— the dear little sweets,” chattered the child t( > 
herself. 

Hal meanwhile was seated on the floor, en- 
gaged in a more practical way, namely, trying 
to try on his new boots. But “ new boots,” as 
he said himself, ^‘is stiff.” Hal pulled and 
tugged till he grew very red in the face, but 
all in vain. 

Oh, Peggy !” he said, do help me. I does 
so want to hear them squeak, and to ’upprise 
the boys when they come in.” 

Down went kind Peggy on the floor, and 
thanks to her the boots were got on, though 
the buttoning of them was beyond her skill. 
Hal was quite happy, though. 

They do squeak, don’t they, Peggy ?” he 
said ; and nurse’ll let me wear them a little 
for them to get used to my feet afore we go to 
the country.” 

You mean for your feet to get used to 
them, Hallie,” said Peggy. But there’s lots 
of time for that. Why, they’ll be half wored 
out before we go to the country if you begin 
them now.” 


78 


LITTLE MISS PEGGT. 


’Tisn’t nonsense,” said Hal sturdily. Nurse 
said so to that girl in the shop.” 

Peggy felt very puzzled. 

But, Hal,” she was beginning, when a 
voice interrupted her. It was nurse. She had 
been downstairs, having heard the front-door 
bell ring. 

Miss Peggy, your mamma wants you. She’s 
come in. You’ll find her in her own room.” 

Nursie,” she said, “ Hal’s been saying ” 

“You mustn’t keep your mamma waiting,” 
said nurse. “ I’ve told her about the little 
shoes.” 

“ I’ll take them to show her — won’t she be 
pleased ?” said Peggy, seizing her little parce] 
which she had put down while helping Hal. 

And ofi she set. 

She stopped at her mother’s door ; it was 
only half -shut, so she did not need to knock. 

“ Mamma dear, it’s me — Peggy,” she said. 

“ Come in, darling,” mamma’s voice re- 
plied. 

“ I’ve brought you the sweet little red shoes 
to see,” said Peggy, carefully unfolding the 
paper which held her treasures, and holding 
them out for mamma’s admiration. 

“ They are very pretty indeed — really lovely 


THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 


79 


little shoes,” she said, handling them with care, 
but so as to see them thoroughly. It was 
very kind of that lady. I wonder who she 
was ? Of course in a general way I wouldn’t 
like you to take presents from strangers, but 
she must have done it in such a very nice way. 
Was she an old lady, Peggy ?” 

“ Oh, yes !” said Peggy, quite old. She 
was neely as big as you, mamma dear. I dare 
say she’s neely as old as you are.” 

Mamma began to laugh. 

“You little goose,” she said. But Peggy 
didn’t see anything to laugh at in what she had 
said, and her face remained quite sober. 

“I don’t understand you, mamma dear,” she 
said. 

“ Well, listen then ; didn’t Hal buy a pair of 
new boots for himself to-day ?” mamma began. 

“ No, mamma dear. Nurse buyed them for 
he,” Peggy replied. 

“ Or rather I bought them, for it was my 
money nurse paid for them with, if you are so 
very precise. Miss Peggy. But never mind 
about that. All I want you to understand is 
the difference between ‘ big ’ and ‘ old.’ Hal’s 
boots are much bigger than these tiny things, 
but they are not on that account older.” 


80 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Peggy began to laugh. 

“ No, mamma dear. P’r’aps Hallie’s boots is 
younger than my sweet little red shoes, for 
they has been a great long while in the shop- 
window, and Baldwin and Terry sawed them 
when they was little.” 

Not ^younger,’ Peggy dear; ^ newer’ you 
mean. Boots aren’t alive. You only speak of 
live things as ^ young.’ ” 

Peggy sighed. 

“ It is rather difficult to understand, mamma 
dear.” 

“ It will all come by degrees,” said mamma. 

When I was a little girl I know I thought for 
a long time that the moon was the mamma of 
the stars because she looked so much bigger.” 

“ I think that’s very nice, mamma, though, 
of course, I understand it’s only a fancy fancy. 
I haven’t seen the moon for a long time, mam- 
ma. May I ask nurse to wake me up the next 
time the moon comes ?” 

“ You needn’t wait till dark to seethe moon,” 
said mamma. “ She can often be seen by day- 
light, though, of course, she doesn’t look so 
pretty then as in the dark sky, which shows 
her off better. But, of course, the sky here is 
so often dull with the smoke of the town that 


THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 


81 


we can’t see her as clearly in the daytime as 
where the air is purer.” 

“ Like in the country, mamma,” said Peggy. 
“ It’s always clear in the country, isn’t it ?” 

“ Not quite always,” said mamma, smiling. 

“ But, Peggy dear, speaking of the country ” 

Oh, yes !” Peggy interrupted, “ I want to 
tell you, mamma, what a silly thing Hallie 
would say about going to the country and 
she told her mother all that Hal had said about 
his boots, and indeed what nurse had said too ; 
“ and nursie was just a weeny, teeny bit cross 
to me, mamma dear,” said Peggy plaintively. 

She wouldn’t say she’d mistooked about 
it.” 

Mamma looked rather grave, and instead of 
saying at once that of course nurse had only 
meant that Hal’s boots should last till the 
summer, she took Peggy on her knee and kissed 
her — kissed her in rather a “ funny ” way, 
thought Peggy, so that she looked up and 
said : 

Mamma dear, why do you kiss me like 
that ?” 

Instead of answering, mamma kissed her 
again, which almost made Peggy laugh. 

But mamma was not laughing. 


LITTLE Mm PEGGY, 


SZ 


“ My own little Peggy,” she said, “ I have 
something to tell you which I am afraid will 
make you unhappy. It is making me very un- 
happy, I know.” 

“Poor dear little mamma,” said Peggy, and 
as she spoke she put up her little hand and 
stroked her mother’s face. “ Don’t be unhappy 
if it isn’t anything very bad. Tell Peggy about 
it, mamma dear ” / 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


83 


CHAPTEE VI. 

FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 

If IM as much money as I could tell 

I never would cry ^ old clothes to sell!^ 

— London Cries. 

Mamma hesitated a moment. Then she 
began. 

^^You know, Peggy, my pet,” she said, for a 
good while now I haven’t been as strong and 
well as I used to be ” 

“ Stop, mamma, stop,” said Peggy, with a 
sort of cry, and as she spoke she threw up her 
hands and pressed them hard against her ears. 
‘‘ I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t 
bear it, no, I can’t. Oh, mamma, you’re not to 
say you’re going to die.” 

For all answer mamma caught Peggy into 
her arms and kissed her again and again. For 
a minute or two it seemed as if she could not 
speak, but at last she got her voice. And 
then, rather to Peggy’s surprise, she saw that 


84 


LITTLE Mm PEQGT. 


altliough there were tears in mamma’s eyes, and 
even one or two trickling down her face, she 
was smiling too. 

“ My darling Peggy,” she said, did I 
frighten you ? I am so, so sorry. Oh, no, 
darling, it is nothing like that. Please God I 
shall live to see my Peggy as old as I am now, 
and older, I hope. No, no, dear, it is nothing 
so very sad I was going to tell you. It is only 
that the doctor says the best way for me to get 
quite well and strong again is to go away for 
a while to have change of air as it is called, in 
some nice country place.” 

In the country,” said Peggy, her eyes 
brightening with pleasure. Oh, how nice ! 
will it perhaps be that country where my 
cottage is ? Oh, dear mamma, how lovely ! 
And when are we to go ? May we begin 
packing to-day ? And how could you think it 

would make me unhappy ” she went on, 

suddenly remembering what her mother had 
said at first. 

Mamma’s face did not brighten up at all. 

“ Peggy dear, it is very hard for me to tell 
you,” she said. “ Of course, if we had all been 
going together it would have been only happy. 
But that’s just the thing. I can’t take you 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 85 

with me, my sweet. Baby must go, because 
nurse must, and Hallie too. But the friend I 
am going to stay with can’t have more of us 
than the two little ones, and nurse, and me — it 
is very, very good of her to take so many.” 

“ Couldn’t I sleep with you, mamma dear ?” 
said Peggy in a queer little voice, the tone of 
which went to mamma’s heart. 

My pet, Hallie must sleep with me, as it is. 
My friend’s house isn’t very big. And there’s 
another reason why I can’t take you — I’m not 
sure if you could understand ” 

“ Tell it me, please, mamma.” 

“ The lady I am going to had a little girl just 
like you — I mean just the same age, and rather 
like you altogether, I think. And the poor 
little girl died two years ago, Peggy. Since 
then it is a pain to her mother to see other 
little girls. When you are bigger and not so 
like what her little girl was, I dare say she 
won’t mind.” 

Peggy had been listening, her whole soul in 
her eyes. 

I understand,” she said. I wouldn’t like 
to go if it would make that lady cry — if it hadn’t 
been for that — oh, mamma, I could have 
squeezed myself up so very tight in the bed ! 


86 


LITTLE MI81S PEGGY. 


You and Hallie wouldn’t liave knowed I were 
there. But I wouldn’t like to made her cry. I 
am so sorry about that little girl. Mamma, 
how is it that dying is so nice, about going to 
heaven, you know, and still it is so sorry ?” 

“ There is the parting,” said mamma. 

Yes — that must be it. And, mamma, I hope 
it isn’t naughty, but if you were to die I’d be 
very sorry not to see you again just the same — 
even if you were to be a very pretty angel, with 
shiny clothes and all that, I’d want you to be 
my own old mamma.” 

“ I would be your own old mamma, dear. I 
am sure you would feel I was the same.” 

I’m so glad,” said Peggy. Still it is sad 
to die,” and she sighed. Mamma dear, you 
won’t be very long away, will you ? It’ll only 
be a little short parting, won’t it ?” 

“ Only a few weeks, dear. And I hope you 
won’t be unhappy even though you must be a 
little lonely.” 

If only I had a sister,” said Peggy. 

But mamma went on to tell her all she had 
planned. Miss Earnshaw, a dressmaker who 
used sometimes to come and sew, was to be with 
Peggy as much as she could. She was a gentle, 
nice girl, and Peggy liked her. 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


87 


“ She has several things to make for me just 
now,” said mamma, “ and as she lives near, she 
will try to come every day, so that she will be 
with you at dinner and tea. And Fanny will 
help you to dress and undress, and either she 
or Miss Earnshaw will take you a walk every 
day that it is fine enough. And then in the 
evenings, of course, the boys will be at home, 
and papa will see you every morning before he 
goes.” 

And I dare say he’ll come up to see me in 
bed at night too,” said Peggy. Then she was 
silent for a minute or two ; the truth was, I 
think, that she was trying hard to swallow 
down a lump in her throat that would come, 
and to blink away two or three tiresome tears 
that kept creeping up to her eyes. 

Two days later and they were gone. Mam- 
ma, nurse, Hal, and baby, with papa to see 
them olf, and two boxes outside the cab, and of 
course a whole lot of smaller packages inside. 
Peggy stood at the front door, nodding and 
kissing her hand and making a smile, as broad 
a one as she possibly could, to show that she 
was not crying. 

When they were gone, really gone, and 
Fanny had shut the door, she turned kindly to 
Peggy. 


88 


LITTLE MI88 PEGGY. 


“ Now, Miss Peggy, love, what will you do ? 
Miss Earnshaw won’t be here till to-morrow. 
I’ll try to be ready so as to take you out this 
afternoon if it’s fine, for it’s not a half -holiday. 
It’d be very dull for you all day alone — to- 
morrow fhe young gentlemen will be at home, 
as it’s Saturday.” 

A bright idea struck Peggy. 

Fanny,” she said, did mamma or nurse say 
anything about soap-bubbles 

Fanny shook her head. 

No, miss. But I’m sure there’d be no ob- 
jection to your playing at them if you liked. I 
can easy get a little basin and some soap and 
water for you. But have you a pipe ?” 

Peggy shook her head. . 

It isn’t for me, Fanny, thank you,” she 
said. It’s for my brothers most. I’d like 
to make a surprise for them, while mamma’s 
away.” 

“ Yes, that would be very nice,” said Fanny, 
who had been charged at all costs to make 
Peggy happy. “We’ll talk about it. But I’d 
better get on with my work, so as to get out 
a bit this afternoon.” 

“ Very well. I’ll go up to the nursery,” said 
the little girl. 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


89 


The nursery seemed very strange. Peggy 
had never seen it look quite so empty. Not 
only were nurse and the little ones gone, but it 
seemed as if everything belonging to them had 
gone too, for nurse had sat up late the night 
before and got up very early the same morning 
to put everything into perfect order before 
leaving. The tidiness was quite unnatural. 
Peggy sat down in a corner and gave a deep 
sigh. Just then she did not even care to turn 
to the window, where the sunshine was pouring 
in brightly, sparkling on the two little scarlet 
shoes, standing side by side on the sill, where 
Peggy placed them every fine morning, that 
they might enjoy the sight of the white cottage 
on the hill ! 

I almost wish it was raining,” she half- 
whispered to herself, till she remembered how 
very disagreeable a wet day would have been 
for mamma and the others to travel on. “I 
hope it will be a sunny day when they come 
back,” she added as a sort of make-up for her 
forgetfulness. 

And then she got up and wandered into the 
other room. Here one of Hal’s old shoes, 
which had fallen out of a bundle of things to 
be given away which nurse had taken down- 


90 


LITTLE MISS PEQOY. 


stairs just before going, was lying on the floor. 
Peggy stooped and picked it up. How well 
she knew the look of Hal’s shoes ; there was 
the round bump of his big toe, and the hole at 
the corner where a bit of his red sock used to 
peep out ! It gave her a strange dreamy feel- 
ing as she looked at it. It seemed as if it could 
not be true that Hallie was far away — far, 
far away ” by this time, thought Peggy, for she 
always felt as if the moment people were in the 
railway they were whizzed oif hundreds of 
miles in an instant. She stroked the poor old 
shoe lovingly and kissed it. I don’t think just 
then she would have parted with it for any- 
thing ; it would have cost her less to give away 
the lovely little scarlet ones. 

The thought of the old clothes turned her 
mind to the children at the back. 

“ I wonder if nurse gave them any of Hal’s 
and baby’s old things,” she said to herself. 

And she went to the window with a vague 
idea of looking to see. She had not watched 
the Smileys or their relations much for some 
days ; she had been busy helping mamma and 
nurse in various little ways, and her mind had 
been very full of the going away. She almost 
felt as if she had neglected her opposite neigh- 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


91 


bors, tbougb, of course, they knew nothing 
about it, and she was quite pleased to see them 
all there as usual, or even more than usual. For 
it was so fine a day that Keddy and her mother 
were evidently having a grand turn-out — a sort 
of spring cleaning, I suppose. 

Small pieces of carpet, and one or two mats, 
much the worse for wear, were hanging out at 
the open windows. Eeddy’s head, tied up in 
a cloth to keep the dust out of her hair, was to 
be seen every minute or two as she thumped 
about with a long broom, and Mary-Hann 
presently appeared with a pail of soapy water 
which she emptied at a grid in the gutter. 
Mary-Hann looked rather depressed, but Eed- 
dy’s spirits were fully equal to the occasion. 
Had the window been open, Peggy felt sure 
she would have been able to hear her shout- 
ing to her sister to look sharp,” or to “ mind 
what she was about,” even more vigorously 
than usual. 

The rest of the family, excepting, of course, 
the boys, were assembled on the pavement in 
front of Mr. Crick the cobbler’s shop. He too 
had opened his window to enjoy the fine day, 
and in the background he could be dimly seen 
working, as dingy and leathery as ever. Mrs. 


92 


LITTLE MISS PEQOY. 


Whelan’s frilled cap and pipe looked out for a 
moment and then disappeared again. Appar- 
ently just then there was nobody or nothing 
she could scold. 

For the poor children on the pavement were 
behaving very quietly. The Smileys had stayed 
at home from school to mind the babies, with 
a view to smoothing the way for the spring 
cleaning, no doubt, and were sitting, each with 
a child on her lap, in two little old chairs they 
had carried down. Crippley was rocking her- 
self gently in her chair beside them, and the 
last baby but two, as Peggy then thought, was 
on his knees on the ground, amusing himself 
with two or three oyster shells and a few 
marbles. All these particulars Peggy, from her 
high-up nursery window, could not, of course, 
see clearly, but she saw enough to make her 
sigh deeply as she thought that, after all, the 
Smileys were much to be envied. 

“ I dare say they’re telling theirselves 
stories,” she said to herself. They look so 
comfablf^.” 

Just then the big baby happened to come 
more in sight, and she saw that one of the 
things he was playing with was a little shoe — 
an odd one apparently. He had filled it with 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS, 93 

marbles, and was pulling it across tlie stones. 
Up jumped Peggy from lier seat on tlie win- 
dow-sill. 

Oh !” she exclaimed, though there was no 
one to hear, it must be the nother shoe of this. 
What a pity ! They’d do for Tip, and p’r’aps 
they’ve thought there w^asn’t a nother. How I 
would like to take it them. I’ll call Fanny and 
see if she’ll run across with it.” 

Downstairs she went, calling Fanny from 
time to time as she journeyed. But no Fanny 
replied ; she was down in the kitchen, and to 
the kitchen Peggy knew mamma would not like 
her to go. She stood at last in the passage 
wondering what to do, when, glancing round, 
she noticed that the back door opening into the 
yard was temptingly open. Peggy peeped out 
— there was no one there, but, still more tempt- 
ing, the door leading into the small back street 
— the door just opposite the Smiley mansion — 
stood open, wide open, too, and even from 
where she was the little girl could catch sight 
of the group on the other side of the narrow 
street. 

She trotted across the yard, and stood for a 
minute, the shoe in her hand, gazing at the six 
children. The sound of their voices reached 
her. 


94 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Halfred is quite took up witk kis skoe,” 
said Brown Smiley. I told motker ske moigkt 
as well give it ke — a kodd skoe’s no good to 
nobody.” 

’Tis a pity tkere wasn’t tke two of ’em,” 
said Crippley, in a tkin, ratker squeaky voice. 

Tkey’d a done bee-yutiful for ” 

For Tip — yes, tkat’s wkat I were tkinking,” 
cried an eager little voice. “ Here’s tke otker 
skoe ; I’ve just founded it.” 

And little Peggy, witk ker neat kair and 
clean pinafore, stood in tke middle of tke ckil- 
dren kolding out Hal’s slipper, and smiling at 
tkem, like an old friend. 

For a moment or two tkey were all too 
astonisked to speak ; tkey could scarcely kave 
stared more kad tkey caugkt sigkt of a pair of 
wings on ker skoulders, by means of wkick ske 
kad flown down from tke sky. 

Tken Ligkt Smiley nudged Crippley, and 
murmured sometking wkick Peggy could not 
clearly kear, about ^Hk’ young lady koppo- 
site.” 

Tkank you, miss,” tken said Crippley, not 
quite knowing wkat to say. Here, Halfred, 
you’ll kave to find summat else to make a 
carridge of ; give us tke skoe — tkere’s a good 
boy.” 


tor TTp -y£s^ TK^v ^' 5 wk^^t 1 \a/ in tk«'nkm^.” 
criid <SY\ i^v^^.r litfla voicf . ^ tki othtr 

shoi ; iVi just foundiol -it.” 

Ar^d littk Peggy, wiH^ her ni<xt Ii<mV ^vnd 
cll^Ln join^foT£ , stood in thi mictJli. o( H\L 
children holding out s slijsjaer, and 
Snailingcst thim 

liki an old 

l^riin J 






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! 4 






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I 


1 


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FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


95 


Halfred stopped playing, and still on his 
knees on the pavement stared np snspiciously 
at his sister. Brown Smiley, by way of taking 
part in what was going on, swooped down over 
him and caught up the shoe before he saw what 
she was doing, cleverly managing to hold her 
baby on her knee all the same. 

^^’Ere it be,” she said. “ Sarah, put Florence 
on Lizzie’s lap for a minute, and run you up- 
stairs with them two shoes to mother They’ll 
do splendid for Tommy, they will. And thank 
the young lady.” 

Sarah, otherwise Light Smiley, got iip 
obediently, deposited her baby on Crippley’s 
lap, and held out her hand to Peggy for the 
other shoe, bobbing as she did so, with a 
“ Thank you, miss.” 

Peggy left off smiling and looked rather 
puzzled. 

For Tommy,” she repeated. Who is 
Tommy ? I thought they’d do for Tip. 
I ” 

It was now the sisters’ turn to stare, but they 
had not much time to do so, for Halfred, who 
had taken all this time to arrive at the knowl- 
edge that his new plaything had been taken 
from him, suddenly burst into a loud howl — so 


96 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


loud, SO deliberate and determined that Peggy 
stopped short, and all the group seemed for a 
moment struck dumb. 

Brown Smiley was the first to speak. 

Come, now, Halfred,” she said, where’s 
your manners? You’d never stop Tommy hav- 
ing a nice pair o’ shoes.” 

But Halfred continued to weep — he gazed 
up at Peggy, the tears streaming aown his 
smutty face, his mouth wide open, howling 
hopelessly. 

“Poor little boy,” said Peggy, looking ready 
to cry herself. “ I wish I’d a nother old shoe 
for him.” 

“ Bless you, miss, he’s always a-crying — 
there’s no need to worry,” said Crippley, Avhose 
real name was Lizzie. “ Take him in with you, 
Sarah, and tell mother he’s a naughty boy, 
that’s what he is,^ and Light Smiley picked him 
up and ran off with him in such a hurry that 
Peggy stood still repeating “ poor little boy,” 
before she knew what had become of him. 

Quiet was restored, however. Peggy, hav- 
ing done what she came for, should have gone 
home, but the attractions of society were too 
much for her. She lingered — Crippley pushed 
Sarah’s empty chair toward her. 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS. 


97 


“ Take a seat, miss,” ske said. You’ll excuse 
me not gettin’ up. Oust I’m a-sittin’ down, 
it’s not so keasy.” 

Peggy looked at ker witk great interest. 

“ Does it kurt muck ?” ske asked. 

Lizzie smiled in a superior way. 

Bless you,” ske said again, “ kurt’s no word 
for it. It’s kail over — but it’s time I were 
used to it — never mind about me, missy. I’m 
sure it was most obligin’ of you to bring tke 
skoe, but won’t your mamma and your nurse 
scold you ?” 

“ My mamma’s gone away, and so kas my 
nurse,” said Peggy. I’m all alone.” 

All tke eyes looked up witk sympatky. 

“ Deary me, wko’d a tkougkt it ?” said Brown 
Smiley. “ But tkere must be somebody to do 
for you, miss.” 

“ To wkat ?” asked Peggy. “ Of course 
tkere’s cook, and Fanny, and my brothers, and 
my papa wken ke comes kome.” 

Brown Smiley looked relieved. Ske was 
only a very little girl, not more tkan three 
years older tkan Peggy herself, though ske 
seemed so much more, and ske had really 
thought that tke little visitor meant to say ske 
was quite, quite by herself. 


98 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


“ Oil !” she said, that’s not being real 
alone.” 

“ But it is,” persisted Peggy. “ It is very 
alone, I can tell you. I’ve nobody to play 
with, and nothing to do ’cept to look out of 
the window at you playing, and at the nother 
window at ” 

^*The winder to the front,” said Lizzie 
eagerly. It must be splendid at your front, 
miss. Father told me onst you could see the 
’ills — ever so far right away in Brackenshire. 
Some day if I could but get along a bit better 
I’d like fine to go round to your front, miss. 
I’ve never seed a ’ill.” 

Lizzie was quite out of breath with excite- 
ment. Peggy answered eagerly : 

Oh, I do wish you could come to our day 
nursery window. When it’s fine you can see 
the mountings — that’s old, no, big hills, you 
know. And — on one of them you can see a 
white cottage ; it does so shine in the sun.” 

Bless me,” said Lizzie, and both the 
Smileys, for Sarah had come back by now, stood 
listening with open mouths. 

Father’s from Brackenshire,” said Light 
Smiley, whose real name was Sarah. She spoke 
rather timidly, for she was well kept in her 


FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS, 


99 


place by her four elder sisters. For a wonder 
they did not snub her. 

Yes, he be,” added Matilda, “and he’s told 
us it’s bee-yutiful over there. He lived in a 
cottage, he did, when he were a little lad.” 

“ Mebbe ’tis father’s cottage miss sees shin- 
ing,” ventured Sarah. But this time she was 
not so lucky. 

“ Bubbish, Sarah,” said Lizzie. “ There’s 
more’n one cottage in Bracken shire.” 

“ And there’s a mamma and a baby — and a 
papa who goes to work, in my cottage,” said 

Peggy. “ So I don’t think it could be ” 

But here she grew confused, remembering that 
all about the white cottage was only fancy, and 
that besides the Smileys’ father might have 
lived there long ago. She got rather red, feel- 
ing somehow as if it was not very kind of her 
not to like the idea of its being his cottage. 
She had seen him once or twice ; he looked big 
and rough, and his clothes were old — she could 
not fancy him ever having lived in her dainty 
white house. 

Just then came a loud voice from the upper 
story, demanding Sarah. 

“ ’Tis Mother Whelan,” said Brown Smiley, 
starting up. “ Rebecca said as how I was to 


100 


LITTLE MIS8 PEGGY. 


run of an errant for her. It’s time I were 
off.” 

Peggy turned to go. 

“ I must go home,” she said. P’r’aps I’ll 
come again some day. If mamma was at home 
I’d ask her if you mightn’t come to look out of 
the nursery window,” she added, turning to 
Lizzie. 

Bless you,” said the poor girl, “ I’d never 
get up the stairs ; thank you all the same.” 

And with a deep sigh of regret at having to 
leave such pleasant company, Peggy ran across 
the street home. 


A BUN 10 IHE GOOD, 


101 


CHAPTER VIL 

A BUN TO THE GOOD. 

^^The little gift from out onr store.” 

The yard door was still open ; so was the 
house door. Peggy met no one as she ran 
in. 

Fanny’s upstairs, p’r’aps,” she said to her- 
self. But no, she saw nothing of Fanny either 
on the way up or in the nursery. She did not 
feel dull or lonely now, however. She went to 
the back window and stood there for a minute 
looking at Crippley and Light Smiley, who 
were still there with the two babies. How 
funny it seemed that just a moment or two ago 
she had been down there actually talking to 
them ! She could scarcely believe they were 
the very same children whom for so long she 
had known by sight. 

I am so glad I found the shoe,” thought 
Peggy. I wish, oh, I do wish I could have a 


102 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


tea-party, and avite them all to tea. I dare 
say the father could carry Crippley upstairs — 
he’s a very big man.” 

The thought of the father carried her thoughts 
to Brackenshire and the cottage on the hill, and 
she went into the day nursery to look if the 
white spot was still to be seen. Yes, it was 
very bright and clear in the sunshine. Peggy 
gazed at it while a smile broke over her grave 
little face. 

^^How I do wish I could go there,” she 
thought. wonder if the Smileys’ father 
amembers about when he was a little boy, 
quite well. If he wasn’t such a nugly man we 
might ask him to tell us stories about it.” 

Then she caught sight of the little scarlet 
shoes patiently standing on the window-still. 

‘‘‘ Dear little shoes,” she said, Peggy was 
neely forgetting you,” and she took them up 
and kissed them. “ Next time I go to see the 
Smileys,” she thought, I’ll take the red shoes 
with me to show them. They will be pleased.” 

Then she got out her work and sat down to 
do it, placing her chair where she could see the 
hills from, the little shoes in her lap, feeling 
quite happy and contented. It seemed but a 
little while till Fanny came up to lay the cloth 


A BUN TO TEE GOOD. 


103 


for Peggy’s dinner. She had been working 
extra hard that morning, so as to be ready for 
the afternoon, and perhaps her head was a little 
confused. And so when Peggy began telling 
her her adventures she did not listen attentively, 
and answered “ yes ” and no ” without really 
knowing what she was saying. 

And so when I couldn’t find you, Fanny, I 
just runned over with the nother shoe myself. 
And the poor little boy what was playing with 
the — the not the nother one, you know, did so 
cry, but I think he soon left olf. And some day 
Pm going to ask mamma to let me avite them 
all to tea, for them to see the hills, and ” — but 
here Peggy stopped — ^ the hills, you know, 
out of the window.” 

‘‘ Yes, dear ; very nice,” said Fanny. You’ve 
been a good little girl to amuse yourself so 
quietly all the morning and to give no trouble. 
I do wonder if the washerwoman knows to come 
for the nursery things, or if I must send,” she 
went on, speaking, though aloud, to herself. 

So Peggy felt perfectly happy about all she 
had done, not indeed that she had had the 
slightest misgiving. 

The afternoon passed very pleasantly. It 
was quite a treat to Peggy to go a walk in a 


104 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


grown-up sort of way witli Fanny, trotting by 
her side and talking comfortably, instead of 
having to take Hal’s hand and lugging him 
along to keep well in front of the perambulator. 
They went up the Ferndale Eoad — a good way, 
further than Peggy had ever been-- so far 
indeed that she could scarcely understand hoAv 
it was the hills did not seem much nearer 
than from the nursery window, but when she 
asked Fanny, Fanny said it was often so Avith 
hills — nothing is more undependable.” 
Peggy did not quite understand her, but 
put it away in her head to think about after- 
ward. 

And when they came home it Avas nearly 
tea-time. Peggy felt quite comfortably tired 
when she had taken off her things and began 
to help Fanny to get tea ready for the boys, 
and when they arrived, all three very hungry 
and rather loAV-spirited at the thought of mamma 
and nurse being aAvay, it was very nice for them 
to find the nursery quite as tidy as usual — in- 
deed, perhaps, rather tidier — and Peggy, with a 
bright face, waiting Avith great pride to pour 
out tea for them. 

“I think you’re a very good housekeeper. 
Peg,” said Terence, who was always the first to 
say something pleasant. 


A BUN TO THE GOOD. 


105 


“ Not so bad,” agreed Tliorold patroniz- 
ingly. 

Baldwin sat still, looking before bim solemn- 
ly, and considering liis words, as was bis way 
before be said anything. 

“ I tbink,” be began at last, “ I tbink that 
when I’m a big man I’ll live in a cottage all 
alone with Peggy, and not no one else.” 

Peggy turned to bim with sparkling eyes. 

“ A white cottage, Baldwin dear ; do say a 
white cottage,” she entreated. 

“ I don’t mind — a white cottage, but quite a 
tiny one,” be replied. 

Hum !” said Thor, “ that’s very good- 
natured, I must say. There’ll be no room for 
visitors, do you bear, Terry ?” 

“ Ob, yes ; p’r’aps there will sometimes,” said 

Peggy- 

^‘You’ll let your poor old Terry come, won’t 
you. Peg-top ?” said Terence coaxingly. 

‘‘ Dear Terry,” said Peggy. 

Haven’t you been very dull all day alone, 
by the bye ?” Terence went on. 

“ Not very,” Peggy replied. “ Fanny took 

me a nice walk, and this morning ” But 

she stopped short before telling more. She 
was afraid that Thorold would laugh at her if 


106 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


she said how much she liked the children at 
the back, and then she had another reason. 
She wanted to surprise ” her brothers with a 
present of pipes for soap-bubbles, and very 
likely if she began talking about the back 
street at all it would made them think of Mrs. 
Whelan’s, and then they might think of the 
pipes for themselves, which Peggy did not wish 
at all. She felt quite big and managing since 
she had paid a visit to the Smileys, and had a 
plan for going to buy the pipes “ all by my own 
self.” 

To-morrow,” said Thorold, “ there’s to be a 
party at our school. We’re all three to go.” 

Peggy’s face fell. 

“ It’s Saturday,” she said. “ I thought you’d 
have stayed with me.” 

Terence and Baldwin looked sorry. 

I’ll stay at home,” said Terry. 

No,” said Thor, I really don’t think you 
can. They’re counting on you for some of the 
games. Peg won’t mind much for once, will 
you ? I’m sorry too.” 

But before Peggy had time to reply, Baldmn 
broke in. 

“ I’ll stay at home with Peg-top,” he said, in 
his slow, distinct way. It won’t matter for 
me not going. I’m one of the little ones.” 


A BUN TO THE GOOD, 


m 


“ And we’ll go a nice walk, won’t we, Bald- 
win ?” said Peggy, quite happy again. “ And 
I dare say we may have something nice for tea. 
I’ll ask papa,” she added to herself. I’m sure 
he’ll give me some pennies when ho hears how 
good Baldwin is.” 

Miss Earnshaw came the next morning, and 
in the interest of being measured for her new 
spring frock, and watching it being cut out, 
and considering what she herself could make 
with the scraps which the young dressmaker 
gave her, the time passed very pleasantly for 
Peg^. 

Miss Earnshaw admired the red shoes very 
much, and was interested to hear the story of 
the unknown lady who had given them to Peg- 
gy, and told a story of a similar adventure of 
her own when she was a little girl. And after 
dinner she, for Fanny was very busy, took 
Peggy and Baldwin out for a walk, and on 
their way home they went to the confectioner’s 
and bought six halfpenny buns with the three 
pennies papa had given Peggy that morning. 
At least the children thought there were only 
six, but greatly to their surprise, when they 
undid the parcel on the nursery table, out 
rolled seven I 


108 


LITTLE MI88 PEGGY, 


“ Oh, dear !” said Peggy, she’s gave us one 
too many. Must we go back to the shop with 
it, do you think, Miss Earnshaw ? It’s such a 
long way.” 

“ I’ll go,” said Baldwin, beginning to fasten 
his boots again. 

But Miss Earnshaw assured them it was all 
right. 

You always get thirteen of any penny buns 
or cakes for a shilling,” she said ; “ and some 
shops will give you seven halfpenny ones for 
threepence. That’s how it is. Did you never 
hear speak of a baker’s dozen ?” 

Still Peggy did not feel satisfied. 

“ It isn’t comfable,” she said, giving herself a 
little wriggle — a trick of hers when she was 
put out. “ Six would have been much nicer — 
just two for each,” for Miss Earnshaw was to 
have tea with her and Baldwin. 

The young dressmaker smiled. 

“You are funny. Miss Peggy,” she said. 
“Well, run off now and get ready for tea. 
We’ll have Fanny bringing it up in a minute.” 

Peggy, the seventh bun still much on her 
mind, went slowly into the night nursery. Be- 
fore beginning to take off her hat she strolled 
to the window and looked out. She had seen 


A BUN TO THE GOOD. 


109 


none of tlie children to-day. Now, Brown 
Smiley was standing just in front of the house, 
a basket on her arm, staring up and down the 
street. She had been of an errant ” for Mrs. 
Whelan, but Mrs. AVhelan’s door was locked ; 
she was either asleep or counting her money, 
and the little girl knew that if she went 
on knocking the old woman would get into a 
rage, so she was waiting a bit.” She liked 
better to do her waiting in the street, for she 
had been busy indoors all the morning, and it 
was a change to stand there looking about 
her. 

Peggy gazed at her for a moment or two. 
Then an idea struck her. She ran back into 
the nursery and seized a bun — the odd bun. 

“ They’re all mine, you know,” she called 
out to Baldwin ; but we’ll have two each 
still.” 

Baldwin looked up in surprise. “ What are 
you going to do with it ?” he began to say, but 
Peggy was out of sight. 

She was soon downstairs, and easily opened 
the back door. But the yard door was fastened ; 
she found some difficulty in turning the big 
key. She managed it at last, however, and 
saw to her delight that Brown Smiley was still 
there. 


110 


LITTLE MISS PEQGT. 


Brown/’ began Peggy, but suddenly recol- 
lecting that the Smileys had real names, she 
stopped short, and ran across the street. “ I 
can’t amember your name,” she exclaimed 
breathlessly, “ but I’ve brought you this,” and 
she held out the bun. 

Brown Smiley’s faced smiled all over. 

Lor’ miss,” she exclaimed. You are kind, 
to be sure. Mayn’t I give it to Lizzie ? She’s 
been very bad to-day, and she’s eat next to 
naught. This ’ere’ll be tasty -like.” 

“ Lizzie,” repeated Peggy, “ which is Lizzie ? 
Oh, yes, I know, it’s Crippley.” 

Brown Smiley looked rather hurt. 

It’s not her fault, miss,” she said. “ I’d not 
like her to hear herself called like that.” 

Peggy’s face showed extreme surprise. 

“ How do you mean ?” she said. “ I’ve made 
names for you all. I didn’t know your real 
ones.” 

Brown Smiley looked at her and saw in a 
moment that there was nothing to be vexed 
about. 

To be sure, miss. Beg your pardon. Well, 
she that’s lame’s Lizzie, and me, I’m Matilda 
Jane.” 

Oh, yes,” interrupted Peggy. “ Well, you 



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A BUN TO TBE GOOD. 


Ill 


may give her the bun if you like. It’s very 
kind of you, for I meant it for you. I’d 
like” — she went on — ‘^I’d like to give you 
more, but you see papa gaved me the pennies 
for us, and p’r’aps he’d be vexed.” 

To be sure, to be sure, that’d never do,” 
replied Matilda quickly. But oh, miss, we’ve 
been asking father about Brackenshire and the 
cottages. ’Tis Brackenshire ’ills, sure enough, 
that’s seen from your front.” 

I knew that,” said Peggy, in a superior 
way. 

But Brown Smiley was too eager to feel her- 
self snubbed. 

“ And oh, but he says it is bee-yutiful there 
— over on the ’ills. The air’s that fresh, and 
there’s flowers and big-leaved things as they 
call ferns and brackens.” 

“ And white cottages ?” asked Peggy anx- 
iously. 

“ There’s cottages— I didn’t think for to ask 
if they was all white. My ! If we could but 
go there some flne day. Father says it’s not so 
far; many’s the time he’s walked over there 
and back again the next morning when he first 
corned to work here^ you see, miss, and his ’ome 
was still over there like.” 


112 


LITTLE MISS PBQGT. 


“ Yes, in the white cottage,” said Peggy. 
She had made np her mind that it was unkind 
not to ^‘let it be” that the Smileys’ father had 
lived in that very cottage, for he did seem 
to be a nice man in spite of his bigness and his 
dingy workman’s clothes. If he wasn’t nice 
and kind she didn’t think the children would 
talk of him as they did. 

But she spoke absently ; Matilda Jane’s words 
had put thoughts in her head which seemed to 
make her almost giddy. Brown Smiley stared 
at her for a minute. 

“ How she do cling to them cottages being 
white,” she thought to herself, but there — if 
it pleases her ! She’s but a little one.” “ White 
if you please, miss,” she replied, “though I 
can’t say as I had it from father.” 

But suddenly a window above opened, and 
Mother Whelan’s befrilled face was thrust 
out. 

“ What are you about there then, and me fire 
burning itself away, and me tea ready, waiting 
for the bread ? What’s the young lady chat- 
terin’ to the likes o’ you for ? Go home, missy, 
darlin’, go home.” 

The two children jumped as if they had been 
shot. 


A BUN TO THE GOOD. 


113 


“ Will slie beat you ?” whispered Peggy, look- 
ing very frightened. But Brown Smiley shook 
her little round head and laughed. 

‘‘ She won’t have a chance, and she dursn’t 
not to say beat us — father’d be down on her — 
but she doesn’t think naught of a good shakin’. 
But I’ll push the basket in and run off if she’s 
in a real wax.” 

Good-by, then. You must tell me lots 
more about the hills. Ask your father all you 
can,” and so saying, Peggy flew home again. 

“ Where' ve yon been. What did you do with 
the bun ?” asked Baldwin, as soon as she came 
into the nursery. 

I runned down with it, and gaved it to a 
little girl I saw in the street,” said Peggy. 

“Very kind and nice, I’m sure,” said Miss 
Earnshaw. “Was it a beggar. Miss Peggy? 
You’re sure your mamma and nurse wouldn’t 
mind ?” she added rather anxiously. 

“ Oh, no,” said Peggy. “ It’s not a beggar. 
It’s a proper little poor girl what nurse gives 
our nold clothes to.’' 

“ Oh,” said Baldwin, “ one of the children 
over the cobbler’s, I suppose. But, Peggy,” he 
was going on to say he didn’t think his sister 
had ever been allowed to run down to the back 


114 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


street to speak to them, only lie was so slow 
and so long of making up kis mind that, as 
Fanny just then came in with the tea, which 
made a little bustle, nobody attended to him, 
and Miss Earnshaw remained quite satisfied 
that all was right. 

The buns tasted very good — all the better to 
Peggy from the feeling that poor lame Lizzie 
was perhaps eating hers at that same moment, 
and finding it tasty.” 

Does lame people ever get quite better ?” 
she asked the young dressmaker. 

That depends,” Miss Earnshaw replied. 

If it’s through a fall or something that way, 
outside of them so to say, there’s many as gets 
better. But if it’s in them, in the constitu- 
tion, there’s many as stays lame all their lives 
through.” 

Peggy wriggled a little. She didn’t like to 
think about it much. It sounded so myste- 
rious. 

“ What part’s that,” she asked, that bi^ 
word ?” 

“ Constitootion,” said Baldwin, as if he was 
trying to spell Constantinople.” 

Miss Earnshaw laughed. She lived alone 
with her mother, and was not much used to 


A BUN TO THE GOOD, 


115 


children. But she was so pleasant-tempered 
and gentle that she easily got into their ways. 

I shouldn’t use such long words,” she said. 
‘^Our constitution just means ourselves — the 
way we’re made. A strong, healthy person is 
said to have a good constitution, and a weakly 
person has a poor one.” 

Baldvdn and Peggy both sat silent for a 
minute, thinking over what she said. 

I don’t see how that’s to do with crippling,” 
said Peggy at last. Does you mean,” she 
went on, “ that p’r’aps lame people’s legs is made 
wrong — by mistake, you know ? In course God 
wouldn’t do it of purpose, would he ?” 

Baldwin looked rather startled. 

“ Peggy,” he said, “ I don’t think you should 
speak that way.” 

Peggy turned her gray eyes full upon him. 

“ I don’t mean to say anything naughty,” she 
said. Is it naughty. Miss Earnshaw ?” 

The young dressmaker had herself been 
rather taken aback by Peggy’s queer speech, 
and for a moment or two scarcely knew what 
to say. But then her face cleared again. 

“ God can’t make mistakes. Miss Peggy,” she 
said, “and he is always kind. All the same 
there’s many things that seem like one or the 


116 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


other, I know. It must be that there’s reasons 
for them that we can’t see — like when a doctor 
hurts anybody, it seems unkind, but it’s really 
to do them good.” 

“ Like when our doctor cutted poor baby’s 
tooths to make them come through,” said Peggy 
eagerly. ‘^They was all bleeding, bleeding 
ever so, Miss Earnshaw. Baby didn’t under- 
stand, and he was very angry. He always 
sc’eams at the doctor now. I almost think he’d 
like to kill him.” 

Baldwin opened his mouth wide at these 
bloodthirsty sentiments of baby’s. He was 
too shocked to speak. 

“ But it is only ’cos he doesn’t understand,” 
Peggy went on placidly. I don’t sc’eam at 
the doctor. I speak to him quite goodly, ’cos, 
you see, I understand.” 

Baldwin closed his mouth again. He looked 
at Peggy with admiring respect. 

'‘Yes,” agreed Miss Earnshaw, greatly re- 
lieved at the turn their talk had taken, " that’s 
just it. Miss Peggy. You couldn’t have put it 
better.” 

'' Peggy,” said Baldwin, " when you’re big 
you should be a clergymunt.” 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


117 


CHAPTEE VIIL 

HINDER THE BIO UMBRELLA. 

I was going up Pippin Hill, 

Pippin Hill was dirty. 

There I met a pretty miss. 

And she dropped me a curtsey. 

— Old Nursery Rhyme, 

Nothing particular happened during the next 
few days. Peggy’s little life went on regularly 
and peacefully. Miss Earnshaw came every 
morning, and either she or Fanny took Peggy 
a walk every afternoon, except twice when it 
rained, to the- little girl’s great disappoint- 
ment. , 

The second of these wet days happened to 
be Friday. Peggy stood at the front nursery 
window that morning looking out rather sadly. 
There were no hills — no white spot to be seen, 
of course. 

“ I wonder what the Smileys do when it 
rains all day,” she said to herself. I think 


118 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


I'll go to the back window and look if I can 
see any of them.” 

She had scarcely caught sight of her neigh- 
bors for some days. Only now and then she 
had seen the little 'ones tumbling about on the 
pavement, and once or twice the elder girls had 
brought their chairs down and sat there sewing. 
Lizzie had never come out. Peggy feared she 
must be still ill, and perhaps that made the 
others extra busy. It was not likely any of 
them would come out to-day, as it was raining 
so; but sometimes she was able to see their 
faces at the window. And on a rainy day some 
of the little ones at least would perhaps be 
looking out. 

She turned to go to the other nursery, when 
Miss Earnshaw spoke to her. 

I wouldn’t be so vexed at its being wet to- 
day, Miss Peggy, if I was you,” she said. It’ll 
be much worse if it’s wet to-morrow, for it’s 
your brothers’ half-holiday.” 

“ Is to-morrow Saturday ?” asked Peggy. 

To be sure it is. And I’m afraid I can’t 
possibly stay here in the afternoon. I’ve got 
to go to see a lady some way off about some 
work. I wish she hadn’t fixed for Saturday. 
If it’s fine it won’t matter so much. Fanny 


VNDEB THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


119 


and I were saying you could all go a nice walk 
— the young gentlemen and you — with her. 
But if it’s wet I don’t know however she’ll 
manage you all in the house.” 

Suddenly Peggy’s eyes began to sparkle. 

Miss Earnshaw,” she said, I’ve thought of 
something. If you’ll ask Fanny, I’m sure she’ll 
say we can ; we’ve not had them for such a 
long time, and I’ve got my four pennies and a 
halfpenny — that’ll get six, you know, in case 
any’s brokened.” 

Miss Earnshaw looked at her and then began 
to laugh. 

“ Miss Peggy dear, you must tell me first 
what you mean,” she said. ^^Your thoughts 
come so fast that they run ahead of your 
words. What is it you mean to get six of — 
not buns ?” 

“ Buns !” repeated Peggy. “ You can’t blow 
bubbles with buns. No, of course I meant 
pipes. Nice white pipes to blow soap-bubbles.” 

Oh, to be sure,” said Miss Earnshaw. 

That’s a very good idea. Miss Peggy, in case 
to-morrow afternoon’s wet, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if it was.” 

“ And you’ll ask Fanny ?” 

Of course ; you can ask her yourself for 


120 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


that matter. I’m sure she’s the last to grudge 
you anytliing that’d please you and the young 
gentlemen. And even if soap-bubbles are 
rather messy sometimes, it’s easy to wipe up. 
It’s not like anything dirty.” 

Soap must be clean, mustn’t it ?” said 
Peggy, laughing. “ But don’t tell the boys, 
pelease, dear Miss Earnshaw. I do so want to 
apprise them. I can get the pipes to-morrow 
morning. I know where to get them,” and 
quite happy, Peggy trotted off to take out her 
money-box and look to be quite sure that the 
three pennies and three halfpennies were there 
in safety, where for some weeks they had been 
waiting. 

Bless her heart,” said the young dressmaker. 
^^She is the sweetest little innocent darling 
that ever lived.” 

After looking over her pennies Peggy turned 
to the window. No, none of the Smileys was 
to be seen. 

‘‘Never mind,” said Peggy to herself. “I’ll 
p’r’aps see them to-morrow when I go for the 
pipes. I almost hope it’ll be a wet day. It 
will be so nice to blow soap-bubbles. Only,” 
and she sighed a little, “ it does seem such a 
very long time since . I sawed the white cob 
tage.” 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


121 


To*morrow was rainy, very rainy, witli no 
look of going to clear up ” about it. The boys 
grumbled a good deal at breakfast at the dole- 
ful prospect of a dull half-holiday in the 
house. 

And papa’s going away to-day till Monday,” 
said Thorold ; ‘‘ so there’ll be no going down to 
the dining-room to sit beside him while he’s at 
dinner for a change.” 

Poor papa,” said Peggy, he’ll get very wet 
going such a long way.” 

Nonsense, jmu little goose,” said Thor 
crossly. “ People don’t get wet in cabs and 
railway carriages.” 

I forgot,” said Peggy meekly. 

You shouldn’t call her a goose, Thor,*' said 
Terence “ It’s very disagreeable to travel on 
a very rainy day. I’ve often heard people say 
so.” 

“ I wish I was going to travel, rainy or not, 
I know that,” grumbled Thorold. Here we 
shall be mewed up in this stupid nursery all 
the afternoon with nothing to do.” 

^‘There’s lots of things to do,” said Baldwin. 
“ I think I’ll write a letter to mamma for one 
thing. And I want to tidy my treasure-box 
and—” 


m 


LITTLE MISS PEQG Y. 


“You’re a stupid,” said Thorold. “You’re 
too fat and slow to have any spirit in you.” 

“ Now, Thorold, I say that’s not fair,” said 
Terry. “ Would it show spirit to grumble ? 
You’d be down upon him if he did. There’s 
no pleasing you.” 

“ I know something that would please him,” 
said Peggy, who was trembling between eager- 
ness to tell and determination not to tell her 
“ surprise.” 

“ What ?” said Thor, rather grumpily still. 

“ I’m not going to tell you till you come 
home. And it’ll only be if it’s a rainy after- 
noon,” said Peggy. 

Terence and Baldwin pricked up their 
ears. 

“ Oh, do tell us. Peg-top,” they said. 

But the little girl shook her head. 

“ No, no,” she replied. “ I’ve promised my- 
self — quite promised not.” 

“ There’s a reason for you,” said Thor. But 
his tone was more good-natured now. He felt 
ashamed of being so cross when the little ones 
were so kind and bright. 

“ I’ll really, truly tell you when you come 
back from school,” said Peggy, and with this 
assurance the boys had to content themselves. 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA, 


123 


Miss Earnshaw arrived as usual, or rather 
not as usual, for she was dripping, poor fhing, 
and had to leave her waterproof downstairs in 
the kitchen. 

AVhat weather. Miss Peggy,” she said as 
she came in, I thought it would be a wet 
day, but not such a pour. It is unfortunate 
that I have to go so far to-day, isn’t it ? And 
I’m sorry to leave you children alone too.” 

Never mind,” said Peggy cheerily ; we’ll 
be quite happy with the soap bubbles. I’ve got 
my money quite ready. Mayn’t I go and get 
the pipes now ?” 

Out, my dear ? In such weather !” ex- 
claimed Miss Earnshaw. 

^‘Oh, but it’s quite near,” said Peggy. Just 
hop out of the door and you’re there. The 
boys always buy their pipes there, and mamma 
goes there herself sometimes to see the old 
woman.” 

^^Well, wait a bit, anyway. It can’t go on 
raining as fast as this all the morning snrely. 
It’s real cats and dogs.” 

Peggj^ looked up in surprise. 

Cats and dogs. Miss Earnshaw ?” she re- 
peated. 

“ Oh, bless you, my dear, it’s only a way of 


124 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


speaking,” said the dressmaker a little im- 
patiently, for she was not very much accustomed 
to children. It just means raining very 
hard.” 

Peggy went to the window to look out for 
herself. Yes, indeed it was raining very hard. 
The little girl could not help sighing a little as 
she gazed at the thick even gray of the clouds, 
hiding like a curtain every trace of the distant 
hills she was so fond of. 

I won’t put out the little red shoes to-day,” 
she said to herself, “ there’s nothing for them 
to see.” 

Then other thoughts crept into her mind. 

“ I wonder if it’s raining at the white cottage 
too,” she said to herself. And aloud she asked 
a question. 

Miss Earnshaw, pelease, does it ever rain 
in the country ?” she said. 

liain in the country ! I should rather 
think it did. Worse than in town, you might 
say — that’s to say, where there’s less shelter, 
you’ll get wetter and dirtier in the country, 
only of course it’s not the same kind of really 
black sooty rain. But as for mud in country 
lanes ! I shall see something of it this after- 
noon, I expect.” 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


125 


“ Ob, I’m so sorry,” said Peggy. I thought 
it never rained in the country. I thought it 
was always quite pretty and lovely,” and she 
sighed deeply. I wonder, what people who 
live in little cottages in the country do all day 
when it rains,” she said. 

“ Why, my dear, much the same as other folk, 
I should say. They have their rooms to clean, 
and their dinner to cook, and their children to 
look after. Still I dare say it’d be a bit 
drearier in the country of a right-down wet 
day like this, even than in town. I’ve never 
lived there myself, except for a week at a time 
at most, but mother was all her young days in 
the country.” 

“ Everybody’s fathers and mothers lived 
there,” said Peggy rather petulantly. “ Why 
don’t peoples let their children live there 
now ?” 

Miss Earnshaw laughed a little. Peggy did 
not like her to laugh in that way, and she gave 
herself a little wriggle, though poor Miss 
Earnshaw certainly did not mean to vex 
her. 

There are plenty of children in the country 
too, Miss Peggy,” she said. “ Mother’s youngest 
sister has twelve.” 


126 


LITTLE ML8S PEGGY, 


Twelve,” repeated Peggy, “ liow nice ! at 
least if there’s lots of sisters among them, and 
no very little babies. Do they live over in 
that country ?” she went on, pointing in the 
direction of the invisible hills, that country, 
called Brack — You know the name.” 

Brackenshire,” said Miss Earnshaw : no, 
my mother comes from much further off. A 
very pretty place it must be by what she says. 
Not but what Brackenshire’s a pretty country 
toOo I’ve been there several times with the 
Sunday-school for a treat.” 

“ And did you see the hills and the white 
cottages ?” asked Peggy breathlessly. 

Oh, yes, the hills are beautiful, and there’s 
lots of cottages of all kinds. They look pretty 
among the trees, even though they’re only poor 
little places, most of them.” 

“ The white ones is the prettiest,” said Peggy, 
as if she knew all about it. 

‘‘Yes, I dare say,” said Miss Earnshaw, 
without paying much attention ; she had got to 
rather a difficult part of the sleeve she was 
making. 

“ Did you ever walk all the way there when 
you was a little girl ?” Peggy went on. 

“ Oh, yes, of course,” Miss Earnshaw replied. 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA, 

without the least idea of what she was 
answering. 

Keally !” said Peggy ; how nice !” Then 
seeing that the dressmaker was absorbed in 
her work, ^^Miss Earnshaw,” she said, ‘^I’m 
going for the pipes now. It isn’t raining 
quite so fast, and I’ll not be long.” 

^^Very well, my dear,” Miss Earnshaw re- 
plied, and Peggy went off to fetch her pennies 
from the drawer in the other nursery where she 
kept them. She had a new idea in her head, 
an idea which Miss EarnshaAv’s careless words 
had helped to put there, little as she knew 
it. 

If I see the Smileys,” thought Peggy, I’ll 
tell them what she said.” 

She glanced out of the window. Dear me, 
how lucky ! There stood Brown Smiley look- 
ing out at the door, as if she were hesitating 
before making a plunge into the dripping wet 
street. It did seem at the back as if it were 
raining faster than in the front. Peggy opened 
the cupboard and took out her little cloak 
which was hanging there. 

“ I won’t put on my hat,” she thought, “ ’cos 
nurse says the rain spoils the leavers. I’ll get 
a numbrella doAvnstairs, and then I can’t get 


LITTLE MIBB PEOGY. 


m 

wet, and here’s my pennies all right in my 
pocket. I do hope Brown Smiley will wait till 
I get down.” 

She made all the haste she could, and found, 
as she expected, an umbrella in the stand 
downstairs. It was not very easy to open, but 
she succeeded at last; then came, however, 
another difficulty : she could not get herself 
and the umbrella through the back door to- 
gether. 

“ Dear me,” thought Peggy, I wonder how 
people does with their numbrellas. They must 
open them in the house, else they’d get wet 
standing outside while they’re doing it. I never 
looked to see how nurse does, but then we 
almost never go out when it’s rainy. I appose 
it’s one of the hard things big peoples has to 
learn. Oh, dear ! won’t it come through ?” 

No, she couldn’t manage it, at least not wdth 
herself under it. At last a brilliant idea 
struck Peggy ; anything was better than clos- 
ing the tiresome thing now she had got it 
open — she would send it first and follow 
after herself. So the umbrella was passed 
through, and went slipping down the two or 
three steps that led into the yard, where it lay 
gaping up reproachfully at Peggy, who felt in- 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 129 

dined to call out “ Never mind, poor thing, 
I’m coming d’reckly.” 

And as “ d’reckly ” as possible she did come, 
carefully closing the door behind her, for fear 
the rain should get into the house, which, 
together with the picking up of the umbrella, 
far too big and heavy a one for a tiny girl, took 
so long that I am afraid a good many drops had 
time to fall on the fair uncovered head before 
it got under shelter again. 

But little cared Peggy. She felt as proud as 
a peacock, the umbrella representing the tail, 
you understand, when she found herself outside 
the yard door, which behaved very amiably, 
fairly under weigh for her voyage across the 
street. She could see nothing before her ; for- 
tunately, however, no carriages or carts ever 
came down the narrow back way. 

Half-way over Peggy stopped short— she 
had forgotten to look if Brown Smiley was still 
standing there. It was not easy to get a peep 
from under the umbrella, without tilting it 
and herself backward on to the muddy road, 
but with great care Peggy managed it. Ah, 
dear, what a disappointment ! There was no 
little girl in front of the cobbler’s window, 
but glancing to one side, Peggy caught sight 


130 


LITTLE MISS PEQG7. 


of the small figure with a shawl of mother’s ” 
quaintly drawn over the head, trotting away 
down the street. With a cry Peggy dashed 
after her. 

‘^Oh, Brown Smiley,” she called out, ^^do 
come back. I’m too frightened to go to buy 
the pipes alone,” for what with her struggles 
and her excitement, the little damsel’s nerves 
were rather upset. Oh, Brown Smiley — no 
— no, that’s not her name, oh, what is your 
name. Brown Smiley ?” and on along the rough 
pavement behind the little messenger she rushed, 
if indeed poor Peggy’s toddling, flopping from 
one side to another progress, could possibly be 
called “rushing.” 

It came to an end quickly — the paving-stones 
were rough and uneven, the small feet had only 
“ my noldest house-shoes ” to protect them, and 
the “ numbrella ” was sadly in the way ; there 
came suddenly a sharp cry, so piercing and 
distressful that even Matilda Jane, accustomed 
as she was to childish sounds of woe of every 
kind and pitch, was startled enough to turn 
round and look behind her. 

“ Can it be Halfred come a-runnin’ after me ?” 
she said to herself. But the sight that met her 
eyes puzzled her so that at the risk of Mother 


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UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


131 


Whelan’s scolding for being so long, she could 
not resist running back to examine for herseli 
the strange object. This was nothing more 
nor less than an umbrella, and an umbrella in 
itself is not an uncommon sight. But an um- 
brella rolling itself about on the pavement, an 
umbrella from which proceeds most piteous 
wails, an umbrella from underneath which, 
when you get close to it, you see two little feet 
sticking out and by degrees two neat black 
legs, and then a muddle of short skirts, which 
by rights should be draping the legs, but have 
somehow got all turned upside down like a 
bird’s feathers ruffled up the wrong way — such 
an umbrella, or perhaps I should say an um- 
brella in such circumstances, certainly may be 
called a strange sight, may it not ? 

Matilda Jane Simpkins, for that was Browr 
Smiley’s whole long name, thought so anyway, 
for she stood stock-still, staring, and the only 
thing she could collect herself enough to^ saj 
was, Lor’ !” 

But her state of stupefaction only lasted hall 
a moment. She was a practical and business- 
like little person ; before there was time fot 
another cry for help, she had disentangled the 
umbrella and its owner, and set the latter on 


132 


LITTLE MISS PEOQY. 


her feet again, sobbing piteonsly, and dread- 
fully dirty and muddy, but otherwise not much 
the worse. 

Then Matilda Jane gave vent to another ex- 
clamation. 

Bless me, missy, it’s you !” she cried. “ What- 
ever are you a-doing of to be out in the rain all 
alone, with no ’at and a humbrella four sizes 
too big for the likes of you, and them paper- 
soled things on yer feet ? and, oh, my ! ain’t yer 
frock muddy ? What’ll your folk say to you ? 
Or is they all away and left you and the cat to 
keep ’ouse ?” 

“ I was running after you, Brown Smiley,” 
sobbed Peggy. She could not quite make out 
if Matilda Jane was making fun of her or not, 
and, indeed, to do Matilda justice, she had no 
such intention. “ I was running after you,” 
Peggy repeated, ‘‘ and you wouldn’t stop, and 
I couldn’t run fast ’cos of the numbrella, and so 
I felled down.” 

“ Never mind, missy dear, you’ll be none 
the worse, you’ll see. Only, will they give it 
you when you go home for dirtying of your 
frock ?” 

“ Give it me ?” repeated Peggy. 


UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA. 


138 


Yes, give it you ; will you get it — will you 
catch it ?” said Matilda impatiently. 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” Peggy re- 
plied. 

Matilda wasted no more words on her. She 
took her by the arm, umbrella and all, and 
trotted her down the street again till they had 
reached the Smiley mansion. Then she drew 
Peggy inside the doorway of the passage, 
whence a stair led up to Mrs. Whelan’s, and to 
the Simpkins’ own rooms above that again, and 
having shut up the umbrella with such perfect 
ease that Peggy gazed at her in admiration, she 
tried to explain her meaning. 

Look ’ere now, miss,” she said, “ which’ll 
you do — go straight over the way ’ome just as 
you are, or come in along of huz and get yerself 
cleaned up a bit ?” 

^‘Oh, I’ll go in with you, pelease,” sobbed 
Peggy. P’r’aps Miss Earnshaw wouldn’t 
scold me. She let me come, and I didn’t fell 
down on purpose. But I know she wouldn’t let 
me come out again — I’m sure she wouldn’t, and 
I do so want to get the pipes my own self. 
You’ll take me to Mrs. Whelan’s, won’t you, 
dear Brown Smiley ?” 

I’ll catch it when she sees I haven’t done 


134 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


her errant,” said Matilda. But never mind ; 
she’ll not be so bad with you there, maybe. 
Come up with me, missy, and I’ll get Bebecca 
to wipe you a bit,” and she began the ascent 
of the narrow staircase, followed by Peggy. 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


135 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 

There was an old woman that lived in a shoe. 

She had so many children she didnT know what to do.” 

— Nursery Rhymes. 

In spite of her misfortunes, Peggy could not 
help feeling very pleased at finding herself at 
last inside the house she had watched so often 
from the outside. It was certainly not a pretty 
house — a big person would probably have 
thought it a very poor and uninteresting one | 
but it was not dirty. The old wooden steps 
were scrubbed down once a week regularly, so 
there was nothing to strike the little girl as 
disagreeable, and it seemed delightfully tpieer 
and mysterious as she climbed the steep, un- 
even staircase, which grew darker and darker 
as they went on, so that but for Brown Smiley’s 
voice in front, Peggy would not have had the 
least idea where she was going. 


136 


LITTLE MISS JPEOO T, 


“There’s Mother Whelan’s door,” Matilda 
said in a half- whisper, as if afraid of the old 
woman’s pouncing out upon them, and Peggy 
wondered how she knew it, for to her every- 
thing was perfectly dark ; “ but we’ll go up- 
stairs first to Eebecca,” and on they climbed. 

Suddenly, what seemed for a moment a blaze 
of brilliant light from the contrast with the 
darkness where they were broke upon them, 
Peggy quite started. But it was only the 
opening of a door. 

“ Is that you, Matilda Jane ? My, but you 
have been sharp. I should think old Whelan 
’ud be pleased for onst.” 

The speaker was Eeddy ; she stood in the 
doorway, her bare red arms shining, as they 
always did, from being so often up to the elbows 
in soap-and- water. 

“ Oh, Eebecca, don’t say nothin’, but I’ve not 
been of my errant yet. Now, don’t ye begin at 
me — ’tweren’t of my fault. I was a-’urryin’ 
along when I saw miss ’ere a-rollin’ in the wet 
with her humberellar, and I’ ad to pick her up. 
She’s that muddy we were afeard they’d give 
it her over the way — her mar’s away. So I told 
her as you’d tidy her up a bit. Come along, 
missy. Eebecca’s got a good ’eart, has Eebecca ; 
she’ll clean you nicely, you’ll see.” 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


137 


For at the sound of Kebecca’s sharp voice 
poor Peggy had slunk back into the friendly 
gloom of the staircase. But she came creeping 
forward now, so that Beddy saw her. 

Lor’ !” said the big girl, ‘‘ little miss from 
the hopposite winder, to be sure.” 

This quite restored Peggy’s courage. 

Have you seen me at the window ?” she 
said. How funny ! I’ve looked at you 
lotses and lotses of times, but I never thought 
of you looking at me.” 

To which both sisters replied with their 
favorite exclamation, Lor’ !” 

Just then came a voice from inside. 

“ Shut the door there, Eebecca, can’t you ? 
If there’s one thing I can’t abide, and you 
might know it, it’s a hopen door, and the 
draught right on baby’s head.” 

Kebecca took Peggy by the hand and drew 
her into the room, and w^hile she was relating 
the story of little missy’s misfortunes to her 
mother, little missy looked round with the 
greatest interest. 

It was a small room, but oh, how full of 
children ! Dinner was being got ready “ against 
father and the boys coming home,” Matilda said, 
but where father and the boys could possibly 


138 


LITTLE MISS PEOOT. 


find space to stand, mucli less to sit, Peggy lay 
awake wondering for a long time that night. 
She counted over all those already present, and 
found they were all there except Lizzie, the 
lame girl. And besides the two babies and 
Alfred, whom she knew by sight, she was 
amazed to see a fourth, a very tiny doll of a 
thing — the tiniest thing she had ever seen, but 
which they all w^ere as proud of as if there had 
never been a baby among them before. At this 
moment it was reposing in the arms of Mary- 
Hann ; Light Smiley, whose real name was 
Sarah, you remember, was taking charge of the 
two big babies in one corner, while Keddy and 
her mother were busy at the fire, and Halfred ” 
was amusing himself quietly with some marbles, 
apparently his natural occupation. 

What a lot of them ! Peggy began to feel 
less sure that she would like to have as many 
sisters as the Smileys. Still they all looked 
happy, and their mother, whom Peggy had 
never seen before, had really a very kind 
face. 

“Pll see to the pot, Kebecca,” she said; 
“ just you wipe missy’s frock a bit. ’Twill be 
none the worse, you’ll see. And so your dear 
mar’s away, missy. I ’ope the change’ll do her 
good.” 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


139 


“ Yes, thank yon,” said Peggy. “ She’s gone 
to the country. Did you ever live in the 
country ? And was it in a white cottage ?” 

Mrs. Simpkins smiled. 

No, missy, I’m town-bred. ’Tis father as 
knows all about the country ; he’s a Bracken- 
shire man.” 

Oh, yes,” said Peggy, I forgot. It’s Miss 
Earnshaw’s mother I was thinking of.” 

“ But father,” said Matilda, he can tell lots 
of tales about the country,” 

I wish he was at home,” said Peggy. “ But 
I must go, now my frock’s cleaned. Some day 
p’r’aps I’ll come again. Thank you, Eeddy,” 
at which Bebecca, who had been vigorously 
rubbing Peggy’s skirt, stared and looked as if 
she were going to say Lor’ !” “ I’m going to 

buy soap-bubble pipes at Mrs. AVhelan’s,” Peggy 
went on, for she was losing her shyness now ; 

that’s what I corned out in the rain for. 
We’re going to play at soap-bubbles this after- 
noon, ’co& it’s too wet to go out a walk.” 

All the Smileys listened with great in- 
rerest. 

Mayn’t Brown — I mean Matilda Jane — 
come with me, pelease ?” said Peggy. I’m 
razer frightened to go to buy them alone ; some- 
times that old woman does look so cross.” 


140 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


“ She looks what she is, then,” said Eeddy, 
’cept for one thing ; she’s awful good to Lizzie. 
She’s a-sittin’ down there this very minute as 
is, is Lizzie, to be out o’ the way like when 
mother and me’s cleaning, you see, miss.” 

Brown Smiley’s face had grown grave. 

“ I dursn’t let Mother Whelan see as I’ve not 
gone,” she said, but if missy doesn’t like to go 
alone — not as she’d be sharp to the likes of you, 
but still ” 

I’ll go,” said little Sarah, Light Smiley, 
that is to say. Jest you see to the childer, will 
ye, Mary-Hann ?” she shouted to the deaf sister. 
I won’t be harf a minute.” 

And you, Matilda Jane, off with you,” said 
Eebecca, which advice Brown Smiley instantly 
followed. 

Sarah took Peggy’s hand to escort her down 
the dark staircase again. Light Smiley was, of 
all the family perhaps, Peggy’s favorite. She 
was two years or so older than her little 
opposite neighbor, but she scarcely looked it, 
for both she and Brown Smiley were small and 
slight, and when you came to speak to them 
both, Sarah seemed a good deal younger than 
Matilda ; she was so much less managing and 
decided in manner, but on the present occasion 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


141 


Peggy would have preferred the elder Smiley, 
for to tell the truth her heart was beginning to 
beat much faster than usual at the thought of 
facing Mrs. Whelan in her den. 

Isn’t you frightened, Light Smiley ?” asked 
the little girl when the two stopped, and Peggy 
knew by this that they must be at the old 
woman’s door. 

Oh, no,” Sarah replied. “ ’Tisn’t as if we’d 
been up to any mischief, you see. And 
Lizzie’s there. She’s mostly quiet when Liz- 
zie’s there.” 

So saying she pushed the door open. It had 
a bell inside, which forthwith began to tinkle 
loudly, and made Peggy start. This bell was 
the pride of Mrs. Whelan’s heart ; it made 
such a distinction, she thought, between her 
and the rest of the tenants of the house, and 
the more noisily it rang the better pleased she 
was. Sarah knew this, and gave the door a 
good shove, at the same time pulling Peggy 
into the room. 

What’s it yer afther now, and what’s be- 
come of Matilda Jane ?” called out the old 
woman, not, at the first moment, catching sight 
of Peggy. 

It’s little missy from over the way,” Sarah 


142 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


hastened to explain ; “ she’s come to buy some 
pipes of you, Mother Whelan.” 

Mrs. Whelan looked at Peggy where she 
stood behind Sarah, gravely staring about 
her. 

“ To be sure,” she said in her most gracious 
tone. “’Tis the beautiful pipes I have. And 
’tis proud I am to say the purty young lady,” 
and on she went with a long flattering speech 
about Peggy’s likeness to her “ swate mother,” 
and in(]^uiries after the lady’s health, all the 
time she was reaching down from a high shelf 
an old broken cardboard box, containing her 
stock of clay pipes. 

Peggy did not answer. In the first place, 
thanks to the old woman’s Irish accent and 
queer way of speaking, she did not understand 
a quarter of what she said. Then her eyes 
were busy gazing all about, and her nose was 
even less pleasantly occupied, for there was a 
very strong smell in the room. It was a sort 
of mixed smell of everything — not like the 
curious “ everything ” smell that one knows so 
well in a village shop in the country, which 
for my part I think rather nice — a smell of tea, 
and cofltee, and bacon, and nuts, and soap, and 
matting, and brown holland, and spices, and 



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THE OPPOSITE HOUSE . 


143 


dried herbs, all mixed together, but with a 
clean feeling about it — no, the smell in Mrs. 
Whelan’s was much stuffier and snuffier. For 
joined to the odor of all the things I have 
named was that of herrings and tobacco 
smoke, and, I rather fear, of whisky. And 
besides all this, I am very much afraid that 
not only a spring cleaning, but a summer or 
autumn or winter cleaning, were unknown 
events in the old woman’s room. *No wonder 
that Peggy, fresh from the sof t-soap-and- water 
smell of the Simpkins’ upstairs, sniffed un- 
easily and wished Mrs. Whelan would be quick 
with the pipes ; her head felt so queer and 
confused. 

But looking round she caught sight of a very 
interesting object ; this was Lizzie, rocking 
herself gently on her chair in a corner, and 
seeming quite at home. Peggy ran — no, she 
couldn’t run, the room was so crowded, for a 
counter stood across one end, and in the other 
a big square old bedstead, and between the 
two were a table and one or two chairs and an 
old tumble-down chest of drawers — made her 
way over to Lizzie. 

‘‘ How do you do. Crip — Lizzie, I mean ? I 
hope your pains aren’t very bad to-day ?” 


144 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


‘‘ Not so very, thank you, miss,” said the poor 
girl. “ It’s nit;e and quiet in here, and the quiet 
does me a deal of good.” 

Peggy sighed. 

“ I don’t like being very quiet,” she said. “ 1 
wish you could come over to the nursery ; now 
that Hal and baby and nurse are away it’s 
dreffully quiet.” 

But you wouldn’t care to change places 
with me, would you, missy ?” said Lizzie. I’m 
thinking you’d have noise enough if you were 
upstairs sometimes. My — it do go through 
one’s head, to be sure.” 

Peggy looked very sympathizing. 

“ Aren’t you frightened of her ?” she whis- 
pered, nodding gently toward Mrs. -Whelan. 

“ Not a bit of it,” said Lizzie, also lowering 
her voice ; “ she’s right down good to me, is the 
old body. She do scold now and then and no 
mistake, but bless you, she’d never lay a linger 
on me, and it’s no wonder she’s in a taking with 
the children when they kicks up a hextra row, 
so to say.” 

Peggy’s mouth had opened gradually 
during this speech, and now it remained 
so. She could not understand half Lizzie’s 
words, but she had no time to ask for an 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


145 


explanation, for just then Light Smiley called 
to her to come and look at the pipes which 
were by this time waiting for her on the 
counter. 

They were the cleanest things in the room — 
the only clean things it seemed to Peggy as she 
lifted them up one by one to choose six very 
nice ones. And then she paid her pennies and 
ran back to shake hands with Lizzie and say 
good-by to her — she wondered if she should 
shake hands with Mrs. Whelan too, but fortu* 
nately the old woman did not seem to expect it, 
and Peggy felt very thankful, for her brown 
wrinkled hands looked sadly dirty to the little 
girl, dirtier perhaps than they really were. 

“ I like your house much better than hers,” 
said Peggy, when she and Light Smiley were 
down at the bottom of the stairs again ; “ it 
smells much nicer.” 

Mother and Rebecca’s all for scrubbing, 
that’s certing,” replied Sarah, with a smile of 
pleasure — of course all little girls like to hear 
their homes praised — but she’s not bad to 
Lizzie, is old Whelan,” as if that settled the 
whole question, and Peggy felt she must not 
say any more about the dirty room. 

Light Smiley felt it her duty to see “ missy ” 


146 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


safe across the street. Peggy’s hands were 
laden with the precious pipes, and Sarah car- 
ried the big umbrella over the two of them. 
They chattered as they picked their way 
through the mud and stood for a minute or two 
at the yard door of Peggy’s house. Light 
Smiley peeped in. 

Lor’,” she said, expressing her feelings in 
the same way as her sisters, yours must be a 
fine house, missy. All that there back yard for 
yerselves.” 

You should see the droind-room, and mam- 
ma’s room ; there’s a marble top to the washing- 
stand,” said Peggy, with pride. 

Lor’,” said Sarah again. 

“ Some day,” Peggy went on, excited by 
Sarah’s admiration, some day when my mam- 
ma comes home, I’m going to ask her to let me 
have a tea-party of you all — in the nursery, you 
know. The nursery’s nice too, at least I dare 
say you’d like it.” 

“Is that the winder where you sees us 
from ?” asked Sarah. “ Matilda Jane says as 
how we could see you too quite plain at 
it if you put your face quite close to the 
glass.” 

“ I can’t,” said Peggy. “ There’s the toilet- 


THE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


147 


table close to the window — at least, it’s really 
a chest of drawers, you know, but there’s a 
looking-glass on the top and a white cover, so 
it’s like a toilet-table for nurse, though it’s too 
high up for me. I have to stand on a chair if 
I w’ant to see myself popperly.” 

Dear !” said Sarah sympathizingly. 

“ And I can only see you by scrooging into 
the corner, and the curting’s there. No, you 
couldn’t ever see me well up at the window. 
But that’s not the nursery where we’d have tea. 
That’s only the night nursery. The other one’s 
to the front ; that’s the window where you can 
see the hills far away.” 

“ In the country, where father used to live. 
Oh, yes, I know. I heerd Matilda Jane a- asking 
’im about it,” said Sarah. 

Oh, and did he tell you any more ? Do ask 
him if it’s really not far to get there,” said 
Peggy eagerly. 

Sarah nodded. 

“ I won’t forget,” she said ; and then, missy, 
when you axes us to the tea-party. I’ll be able 
to tell you all about it.” 

She did not mean to be cunning, poor little 
girl, but she was rather afraid Peggy might 
forget about the tea-party, and she thought 


148 


LITTLE MISS PEQOT. 


it was not a bad plan to say something which 
might help to make her remember it. 

‘‘Yes,” Peggy replied, “ that would be lovely. 
Do make him tell all you can, Light Smiley. 
Oh, I do wish mamma would come home now, 
and I’d ask her about the tea-party immediate- 
ly. I’m sure she’d let me, for she likes us to be 
kind to poor people.” 

Sarah drew herself up a little at this. 

“We’re not — not to say poor folk,” she said, 
with some dignity. “ There’s a many of us, and 
it’s hard enough work, but still ” 

“ Oh, don’t be vexed,” said Peggy. “ I know 
you’re not like — like beggars, you know. And 
I think we’re rather poor too. Mamma often 
says papa has to work hard.” 

Sarah grew quite friendly again. 

“ I take it folks isn’t often rich when they’ve 
a lot of children,” she began, but the sound of 
a window opening across the street made her 
start. “ Bless me,” she said, “ I must run. 
There’s Eebecca a-going to scold me for stand- 
ing talking. Good-by, miss, I’ll not forget to 
ask father.” 

And Sarah darted away, carrying with her 
the umbrella, quite forgetting that it was 
Peggy’s. Peggy forgot it too, and it was not 


TEE OPPOSITE HOUSE. 


149 


raining so fast now, so there was less to remind 
her. She shut the door and ran across the 
yard. The house door still stood open, and she 
made her way up to the nursery without meet- 
ing any one. 


150 


LITTLE MISS PEQSY. 


CHAPTER X 

"SOAP-BTJBBLING.” 

‘^And every color see I there.” 

— The Rainbow, Chables Lamb. 

There was no one upstairs. Miss Eamsliaw 
had gone down to the kitchen to iron the seams 
of her work, without giving special thought to 
Peggy. If any one had asked her where the 
child was she would have probably answered 
that she was counting over her money in the 
night nursery. So she was rather surprised 
when coming upstairs again in a few minutes 
she was met by Peggy flying to meet her with 
the pipes in her hand. 

“ I’ve got them, Miss Earnshaw ; aren’t they 
beauties ?” she cried. “ And I don’t think my 
frock's reely spoiled. It only just looks a little 
funny where the mud was.” 

“ Bless me !” exclaimed the young dress- 
maker, wherever have you been, Miss Peggy ? 
No, your frock’ll brush all right ; but you don’t 


“ SOAP-BUBBLING.^^ 


151 


mean to say you’ve been out in the rain? You 
should have asked me, my dear.” 

She spoke rather reproachfully ; she was a 
little vexed with herself for not having looked 
after the child better, but Peggy was one of 
those quiet old-fashioned ” children who never 
seem to need looking after. 

“ I did ask you,” said Peggy, opening mde 
her eyes, “ and you said, ‘ Very well, my 
dear.’ ” 

Miss Earnshaw couldn’t help smiling. 

“ I must have been thinking more of your 
new frock than of yourself,” she said. “ How- 
ever, I hope it’s done you no harm. Your 
stockings aren’t wet ?” 

“ Oh, no,” said Peggy ; “ my slippers were 
a weeny bit wet, so I’ve changed them. My 
frock wouldn’t have been dirtied, only I 
felled in the wet. Miss Earnshaw, but Brown 
— one of the little girls, you know, that lives 
in the house where the shop is — picked me 
up, and there’s no harm done, is there ? And 
I’ve got the pipes, and won’t my brothers be 
peleased,” she chirruped on in her soft, cheery 
way. 

Miss Earnshaw could not blame her, though 
she determined to be more on the lookout for 


152 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


the future. And soon after came twelve o’clock, 
and then the young dressmaker was obliged 
to go, bidding Peggy Good-by till Monday 
morning.” 

The boys came home wet and hungry, and 
grumbling a good deal at the rainy half-holiday. 
Peggy had hidden the six pipes in her little 
bed, but after dinner she made the three boys 
shut their eyes while she fetched them out and 
laid them in a row on the table. Then, You 
may look now,” she said ; it’s my apprise,” 
and she stood at one side to enjoy the sight of 
their pleasure. 

“ Hurrah !” cried Terry, “ pipes for soap-bub- 
bles ! Isn’t it jolly ? Isn’t Peggy a brick ?” 

Dear Peggy,” said Baldwin, holding up his 
plump face for a kiss. 

“Poor old Peg-top,” said Thor patroniz- 
ingly. “ They seem very good pipes ; and 
as there’s six of them, you and I can break 
one apiece if we like, Terry, without its mat- 
tering.” 

Peggy looked rather anxious at this. 

“Don’t try to break them, Thor, pelease,” 
she said; “for if you beginned breaking it 
might go on, and then it would be all spoiled 
like the last time, for there’s no fun in soap- 
bubbling by turns.” 


80AP-BUBBLim: 


153 


No, that’s quite true,” said Terry. ^^You 
remember the last time how stupid it was. But 
of course we won’t break any, ’specially as 
they’re yours, Peggy. We’ll try and keep them 
good for another time.” 

“ Did you spend all your pennies for them 
asked Baldwin sympathizingly. 

“Not quite all,” said Peggy. “I choosed 
them myself,” she went on importantly. “ There 
was a lot in a box.” 

“ Why, where did you get them ? You didn’t 
go yourself to old Whelan’s, surely?” asked 
Thor sharply. 

“ Yes, I runned across the road,” said Peggy. 
“ You always get them there, Thor.” 

“But it’s quite different. I can tell you 
mamma won’t be very pleased when she comes 
home to hear you’ve been so disobedient.” 

Poor Peggy’s face, so bright and happy, 
clouded over, and she seemed on the point of 
bursting into tears. 

“ I weren’t disobedient,” she began. “ Miss 
Earnshaw said, Wery well, dear,’ and so I 
thought ” 

“ Of course,” interrupted Terry ; “ Peggy’s 
never disobedient, Thor. We’ll ask mamma 
when she comes home ; but she won’t be vexed 


154 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


with you, darling. You won’t need to go again 
before then.” 

“ No,” said Peggy, comforted, “ I don’t want 
to go again, Terry dear. It doesn’t smell very 
nice in the shop. But the children’s house is 
very clean, Terry. I’m sure mamma would let 
us go there.” 

Those Simpkinses over old Whelan’s,” said 
Terry. “ Oh, yes, I know mother goes there 
herself sometimes, though as for that she goes 
to old Whelan’s too. But we’re wasting time ; 
let’s ask Fanny for a tin basin and lots of 
soap.” 

They were soon all four very happy at the 
pretty play. The prettiness of it was what 
Peggy enjoyed the most ; the boys, boy dike, 
thought little but of who could blow the 
biggest bubbles, which, as everybody knows, 
are seldom as rich in color as smaller ones. 

“ I like the rainbowiest ones the best,” said 
Peggy. I don’t care for those ’normous ones 
Thor makes. Do you, Baldwin ?” 

Baldwin stopped to consider. 

“ I suppose very big things aren’t never so 
pretty as littler things,” he said at last, when a 
sort of grunt from Terry interrupted him. 
Terry could not speak ; his cheeks were all 


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SOAP-BVBBLim: 


155 


puffed out round the pipe, and he dared not to 
stop blowing. He could only grunt and nod 
his head sharply to catch their attention to the 
wonderful triumph in soap-bubbles floating be- 
fore his nose. There was a big one, as big as 
any of Thorold’s, and up on the top of it a 
lovely every-colored wee one, the most brilliant 
the children had ever seen — a real rainbow 
ball. 

They all clapped their hands, or at least 
Peggy and Baldwin did so. Thorold shouted. 
Hurrah for Terry’s new invention. It’s like 
a monkey riding on an elephant.” But Peggy 
did not think that was a pretty idea. 

It’s more like one of the very little stars 
sitting on the sun’s knee,” was her comparison, 
which Baldwin corrected to the moon — the sun 
was too yellow, he said, to be like a no-color 
bubble. 

Then they all set to work to try to make 
double bubbles, and Thor actually managed to 
make three, one on the top of the other. And 
Terry made a very big one run ever so far along 
the carpet without breaking, bobbing and 
dancing along as he blew it ever so gently. 

And as a finish-up they all four put their 
pipes into the basin and blew together, making 


156 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


what they called bubble-pudding,” till the 
pudding seemed to get angry and gurgled and 
wobbled itself up so high that it ended by 
toppling over, and coming to an untimely end 
as a little spot of soapy water on the table. 

“ Pride must have a fall, you see,” said 
Thor. 

“ It’s like the story of the frog that tried to 
be as big as an ox,” said Terence, at which they 
all laughed as a very good joke. 

Altogether Peggy’s pipes turned out a great 
success, and the rainy afternoon passed very 
happily. 

The Sunday that came after that Saturday 
was showery, sunny, and rainy by turns, like a 
child who having had a great fit of crying and 
sobbing can’t get over it all at once, and keeps 
breaking into little bursts of tears again, long 
after the sorrow is all over. But by Monday 
morning the world — Peggy’s world, that is to 
say — seemed to have quite recovered its spirits. 
The sun came out smiling with pleasure, and 
even the town birds, who know so little about 
trees and grass and flowersand all those delight- 
ful things, hopped about and chirruped as 
nicely as could be. The boys set off to school 
in good spirits, and while Fanny was taking 


80AP-BUBBLim: 


157 


down the breakfast-things Peggy got out the 
little red shoes, and set them on the window- 
sill, where they had not been for several 
days. 

There, dear little red shoes,” she said 
softly, “ you may look out again at the pretty 
sun and the sky, and the fairy cottage up on 
the mounting. You can see it quite plain to- 
day, dear little shoes. The clouds is all gone 
away, and it’s shinin’ out all white and 
beautiful, and I dare say the mamma’s standin’ 
at the door with the baby — or p’r’aps,” Peggy 
was never very partial to the baby, it’s asleep 
in its cradle. Yes, I think that’s it. And the 
hens and cocks and chickens is all pecking 
about, and the cows mooin’. Oh, how I do wish 
we could go and see them all, don’t you, dear 
little shoes ?” 

She stood gazing up at the tiny white speck, 
to other eyes almost invisible, as if by much 
gazing it would grow nearer and clearer to her ; 
there was a smile on her little face ; sweet visions 
floated before Peggy’s mind of a day, some 
day,” when mamma should take her out ‘‘ to 
the country,” to see for herself the lovely 
and delightful sights that same dear mamma 
had described. 


158 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


Suddenly Fanny’s voice brought her back to 
present things. Fanny was looking rather 
troubled. 

Miss Peggy, love,” she said, cook and I 
can’t think what’s making Miss Earnshaw so 
late this morning. She’s always so sharp to 
her time. I don’t like leaving you alone, but 
I don’t know what else to do. Monday’s the 
orkardest day, for we’re always so busy down- 
stairs, and your papa was just saying this 
morning that I was to tell Miss Earnshaw to 
take you a nice long walk toward the country, 
seeing as it’s so fine a day. It will be right 
down tiresome, it will, if she don’t come.” 

“ Never mind, Fanny,” said Peggy. I don’t 
mind much being alone, and I dare say Miss 
Earnshaw will come. I should like to go a nice 
walk to-day,” she could not help adding, with 
a longing glance cut at the sunny sky. 

“ To be sure you would,” said Fanny, and 
it stands to reason as you won’t be well if you 
don’t get no fresh air. I hope to goodness the 
girl will come, but I doubt it — her mother’s ill 
maybe, and she’s no one to send. Well, dear, 
you’ll try and amuse yourself, and I’ll get on 
downstairs as fast as I can.” 

Peggy went back to the window and stood 


“ 80AP-B UBBLim:* 159 

there for a minute or two, feeling rather sad. 
It did seem hard that things should go so very 
contrarily ” sometimes. 

Just when it’s such a tine day,” she thought. 
Miss Earnshaw doesn’t come. And on Satur- 
day when we couldn’t have goned a walk she 
did come. Only on Saturday it did rain very 
badly in the afternoon and she didn’t stay, so 
that wasn’t a pity.” 

Then her thoughts went wandering otf to 
what the dressmaker had told her of having to 
go a long way out into the country on Saturday 
afternoon, and how wet and muddy the lanes 
would be. Peggy sighed ; she couldn’t believe 
country lanes could ever be anything but 
delightful. 

“ Oh, how very pretty they must be to-day,” 
she said to herself, with all the little flowers 
coming peeping out, and the birds singing, and 
the cocks and hens, and the cows, and — 

and ” She was becoming a little confused. 

Indeed she wasn’t quite sure what a “ lane ” 
really meant — she knew it was some kind of a 
way to walk along, but she had heard the 
word path ” too — were lane ” ar\d path ” 
quite the same? she wondered. And while 
she. was wondering and gazing out of the 


160 


LITTLE MISS PEG 07. 


window, site was startled all of a sudden 
by a soft, faint tap at the door. So soft and 
faint that if it had been at the window instead 
of at the door it might have been taken for the 
flap of a sparrow’s wing as it flew past. Peggy 
stood quite still and listened ; she heard noth- 
ing more, and was beginning to think it must 
have been her fancy, when again it came, and 
this time rather more loudly. Tap, tap.” 
Yes, certingly,” thought Peggy, ‘‘there’s 
somebody there.” 

She felt a little, a very little frightened. 

Should she go to the door and peep out, or 
should she call “ Come in ?” she asked herself. 
And one or two of the “ ogre ” stories that 
Thorold and Terry were so fond of in their 
“ Grimm’s Tales” would keep coming into her 
head — stories of little princesses shut up alone, 
or of giants prowling about to And a nice 
tender child for supper. Peggy shivered. But 
after all what was the use of standing there 
fancying things ? It was broad, sunny daylight 
—not at all the time for ogres or such-like to 
be abroad. Peggy began to laugh at her own 
silliness. 

“ Very likely,” she thought, “ it’s Miss Earn- 
shaw playing me a trick to apprise me, ’cos she’s 
so late this morning.” 


SOAP-BVBBLim: 


161 


This idea quite took away her fear. 

It’s you, Miss Earnshaw, I’m quite sure it’s 
you,” she called out ; come in quick, you 
fanny Miss Earnshaw. Come in.” 

But though the door slowly opened, no Miss 
Earnshaw appeared. Peggy began to think 
this was carrying fun too far. 

Why don’t you come in quick ?” she said, 
her voice beginning to tremble a little. 

The door opened a little further. 

Missy,” said a low voice, a childish, hesitat- 
ing voice, quite different from Miss Earnshaw’s 
quick bright way of speaking. Missy, please, 
it’s me, Sarah, please, miss.” 

And the door opened more widely, and in 
came, slowly and timidly still, a small figure 
well known to Peggy. It was none other than 
Light Smiley. 

Peggy could hardly speak. She was so very 
much astonished. 

Light Smiley — Sarah, I mean,” she ex- 
claimed, how did you come ? Did you see 
Fanny ? Did she tell you to come upstairs ?” 

Sarah shook her head. 

I don’t know who Fanny is, missy. I just 
coined in of myself. The doors was both open, 
and I didn’t meet nobody. I didn’t like for to 


162 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


ring or knock. I tkouglit mebbe your folk’d 
scold if I did— a gel like me. Mother knows 
I’ve corned : she said as how I’d better bring it 
myself.” 

And she held up what Peggy had not 
noticed that she was carrying — the big um- 
brella that had caused so much trouble two 
days before. 

“ The numbrella,” cried Peggy. Oh, thank 
you, Sarah, for bringing it back. I never 
thought of it ! How stupid it was of me !” 

“ Mother told me for to bring it to the door 
and give it in,” Sarah went on. “ I didn’t mean 
to come upstairs, but the door was open, you 
see, miss, and I knowed your nussery was at 
the top and — I ’ope it’s not a liberty.” 

“ Ho, no,” said Peggy, her hospitable feelings 
awakening to see that her little visitor was still 
standing timidly in the doorway, I’m very 
glad you’ve corned. You don’t know how glad 
I am. It’s so lonely all by myself — Miss 
Earnshaw hasn’t come this morning. Come in^ 
Light Smiley, do come in. Oh, bow nice ! I 
can show you the mountings and the little 
white cottage shining in the sun.” 

She drew Sarah forward. But before the 
child looked out of the window, her .eyes were 
caught by the tiny red slippers on the sill. ' 


SOAP-BUBBLim: 


163 


^^Lor’,” she said breathlessly, “ what splendid 
shoes ! Are they for — for your dolly, missy ? 
They’re too small for a baby, bain’t they ?” 

Oh, yes,” said Peggy, “they’re too small 
for oiir baby, a great deal. But then he’s very 
fat” 

“ They’d be too small for ours too, though 
she’s not a hextra fine child for her age. She 
were a very poor specimint for a good bit, 
mother says, but she’s pickin’ up now she’s got 
some teeth through. My — but them shoes is 
neat, to be sure ! They must be for a dolly.” 

“ I’ve no doll they’d do for,” said Peggy, “ but 
I like them just for theirselves. I always put 
them to stand there on a fine day ; they like to 
look out of the window.” 

Sarah stared at Peggy as if she thought she 
was rather out of her mind ! — indeed the chil- 
dren at the back had hinted to each other that 
missy, for all she was a real little lady, was very 
funny-like sometimes. But Peggy was quite 
unconscious of it. 

“ Lor’,” said Sarah at last, “ how can shoes 
see ? They’ve no eyes, missy.” 

“ But you can fancy they have. Don’t you 
ever play in your mind at fancying V asked 
Peggy. “ I think it’s the nicest part of being 


164 


LITTLE MISS PEOG T. 


alive, and mamma says it’s no harm if we beep 
remembering it’s not real. But never mind 
about that — do look at the hills, Sarah, and oh, 
can you see the white speck shining in the sun ? 
That’s the cottage — I call it my cottage, but 
p’r’aps,” rather unwillingly, it’s the one youi 
papa lived in when he was little.” 

D’ye really think so ?” said Sarah eagerly. 

It’s Brackenshire over there, to be sure, and 
father’s ’ome was up an ’ill — deary me, fo 
think as it might be the very place. See it ? 
to be sure I do, as plain as plain. It do seem 
a good bit off, but father he says it’s no more’n 
a tidy walk. He’s almost promised he’ll take 
some on us there some fine day when he’s an 
’oliday. I axed ’im all I could think of, 
missy — all about the cocks and ’ens and cows 
and pigses.” 

^‘Not pigs,” interrupted Peggy. don’t 

like pigs, and I won’t have them in my cottage.” 

“I wasn’t a-talking of your cottage,” said 
Sarah humbly. ’Twas what father told us 
of all the things he seed in the country when 
he were a boy there. There’s lots of pigses in 
Brackenshire.” 

Never mind. We won’t have any,” persist- 
ed Peggy. '' But oh. Light Smiley, do look how 


^‘^OAP-BUBBLim: 


165 


splendid tlie sky is — all so blue and all so 
sbiny. I never sawed suck a lovely day. I 
would like to go a walk.” 

“ And why shouldn’t you ?” asked Sarah. 

There’s no one to take me,” sighed Peggy. 
^^It’s Monday, and Fanny’s very busy on Mon- 
days, and I told you that tiresome Miss Earn- 
shaw’s not corned.” 

Sarah considered a little. 

“ Tell you what, missy,” she said, “ why 
shouldn’t we — you and me — go a walk ? I’m 
sure mother’d let me. I’ve got my ’at all ’andy, 
and I did say to mother if so as missy seed me 
I might stop a bit, and she were quite agree- 
able. I’m a deal older nor you, and I can take 
care of you nicely. Mother’s training me for 
the nussery.” 

Peggy started iip in delight. She had been 
half-sitting on the window-sill, beside the shoes. 

Oh, Light Smiley,” she said, how lovely ! 
Of course you could take care of me. We’d 
go up Fernley Poad, straight up — that’s the 
way to Brackenshire, you know, and p’r’aps we 
might go far enough to see the white cottage 
plainer. If it’s not a very long way to get 
there, we’d be sure to see it much plainer if we 
walked a mile or two. A mile isn’t very far. 
Oh, do let’s go — quick ! quick !” 


166 


LITTLE MI88 PEGGY. 


But Sarah stopped her. 

“You’d best tell your folks first, missy,” she 
said. “ They’ll let you' go and be glad of it, I 
should say, if they’re so busy, and seein’ as they 
let you come over to our ’ouse, and your mar 
knowin’ us and all.” 

“ It was Miss Earnshaw that let me go,” said 
Peggy, “ and then she said she didn’t know I’d 
goned. And Thor said — oh, no, he only said I 
shouldn’t have goned to the shop. But I’ll ask 
Fanny — I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll put on 
my boots and my hat and jacket — you shall help 
me Sarah, and then we’ll go down and I’ll call 
to Fanny from the top of the kitchen stairs 
and ask her if I may go out with you, Sarah, 
dear. I’m sure she’ll say I may.” 

So the two little maidens went into the night 
nursery, where Light Smiley was greatly in- 
terested in looking at her own dwelling-place 
from other people’s windows, and quite in her 
element too, seeing that she was being trained 
for the nursery, in getting out Peggy’s walking 
things, buttoning her boots, and all the rest 
of it. 


UP FERNLET ROAD. 


16 '? 


CHAPTER XL 

UP FERNLEY ROAD. 

But the way is long and toilsome, 

And the road is drear and hard; 

Little heads and hearts are aching, 

Little feet with thorns are scarred. 

— The Children’s Journey. 

Light Smiley kept looking round tke room 
with great satisfaction. 

It is nice in ’ere and no mistake,” she said 
at last. “ Your ’ats and coats and frocks all in 
a row, as neat as neat, and these little white 
beds a sight to be seen. I should love for 
Rebecca and Matilda Jane to see it.” 

“ They will,” said Peggy, when I avite you 
all to a tea-party, you know.” 

Sarah drew a deep breath. A tea-party in 
these beautiful nurseries seemed almost too good 
ever to come true. 

“ Is there a many nusseries as nice as this 
’un, do you think, missy ? I do ’ope as I’ll get 


16 S 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


into a nice one when I’m big enough. One ’ud 
take a pride in keeping it clean and tidy.” 

“ I don’t think this is at all a grand one,” 
Peggy replied. Mamma’s was much grander 
when she was little, I know. But, of course, 
she’s very pertickler, and so’s nurse, about it 
being very tidy.” 

And then, Peggy being ready, the quaint 
pair of friends took each other’s hands and set 
off to the top cf the kitchen stairs. 

Should we take the humberellar ?” said 
Sarah, suddenly stopping at the foot of the first 
little fiight'of stairs. I don’t think it looks 
any ways like rain, still one never knows, and 
I can carry it easy ” 

In her heart she hoped Peggy would say yes. 
For to Sarah’s eyes the clumsy umbrella was a 
very “ genteel ” one indeed, and she felt as if it 
would add distinction to their appearance. 

Peggy, not looking at it from this point of 
view, hesitated. 

P’r’aps it would do to keep the sun off us,” 
she said. “ My parasol’s wored out, so I can’t 
take it. Mamma’s going to get me a new 
one.” 

Sarah ran back and fetched the umbrella. 

When they got to the door at the top of the 


UP PERNLEY ROAP. 


169 


kitchen stairs, Peggy opened it and called 
down softly, “ Fanny, are you there ? Can you 
hear me ?” for she was not allowed to go down 
to the kitchen by herself. 

But no one answered. Fanny was busy 
washing in the back kitchen with both doors 
shut to keep in the steam, and the cook had 
gone out to the butcher’s. 

“ Fanny,” called Peggy again. 

Then a voice came at last in return. 

Is it anything I can tell the cook when she 
comes in, please, miss ?” and a boy came forward 
out of the kitchen and stood at the foot of the 
steep stone stairs. “ I’m the baker’s boy, and 
I met cook and she told me to wait ; she’d be 
back with change to pay the book in a minute. 
There’s no one here.” 

Peggy turned to Sarah in distress. 

“ Fanny must be out too,” she said. 

Well, it’ll be all right if the boy ’ull tell 
her, won’t it, missy ? ’Tisn’t the cook,” she 
went on, speaking to the boy herself, “ ’tis 
t’other one. Jest you tell her when she comes 
in that miss has gone out a little walk with 
me — Sarah Simpkins — she’ll know. I’ll take 
good care of missy.” 

All right,” said the boy, with no doubt 


m 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


that so it was, and thinking, if he thought at 
all, that Sarah Simpkins must be a little nurse- 
girl, or something of the kind about the house, 
though certainly a small specimen to be in 
service ! He whistled as he turned away, and 
something in the cheerful sound of his whistle 
helped to satisfy Peggy that all was right ! 

“ He’s a nice boy,” she said to Sarah. He 
won’t forget, will he ?” 

“ Not he,” Sarah replied. “ He’ll tell ’em 
fast enough. And as like as not we’ll meet ’em 
along the street as we go. Is Webb’s your 
butcher, missy ? ’tis just at the corner of Fern- 
ley Road.” 

Peggy shook her head. 

I don’t know,” she said, feeling rather 
ashamed of her ignorance ; but I’d like to 
meet Fanny, so, pelease, let us go that way.” 

And off the two set, by the front door this 
time, quite easy in their minds, though, as far 
as they knew, the baker’s boy was the only 
guardian of the house. 

They trotted down the street in the sunshine ; 
it was very bright and fine — the air, even there 
in the smoky town, felt this morning deliciously 
fresh and spring-like. 

“ How nice it is,” said Peggy, drawing a 


UP FERNLEY ROAD. 


in 


deep breath ; “ it’s just like summer. I’d like 
to go a quite long walk, wouldn’t you, 
Sarah ?” 

Light Smiley looked about her approvingly. 

Yes,” she said, I does enjoy a real fine 
day. And in the country it must be right- 
down fust-rate.” 

Oh, the country !” said Peggy ; “ oh, dear, 
how I do wish we could go as far as the coun- 
try !” 

“Well,” said Sarah, “ if we walk fast we 
might come within sight of it. There’s nice 
trees and gardings up Fernley Eoad, and that’s 
a sort of country, isn’t it, missy ?” 

They were at the corner of the road by this 
time, but there was no sign of Fanny or cook. 
Webb’s shop stood a little way down the 
other side, but as far as they could see it was 
empty. 

“P’r’aps your folk don’t deal there,” said 
Sarah, to which Peggy had nothing to say, and 
they stood looking about them in an uncertain 
kind of way. 

“We may as well go on a bit,” said Sarah at 
last ; “ that there boy’s sure to tell.” 

Peggy had no objection, and they set off 
along Fernley Eoad at a pretty brisk pace. - 


172 


LITTLE MISS PEGOY. 


They had not very far to go before, as Sarah 
said, the road grew less town-like ; the houses 
had little gardens round them, some of which 
were prettily kept, and after awhile they came 
to a field or two, not yet built upon, though 
great placards stuck up on posts told that they 
were waiting to be sold for that purpose. They 
were very towny sort of fields certainly, still 
the bright spring sunshine made the best of 
them as of everything else this morning, and 
the two children looked at them with pleasure. 

There’s nicer fields still, a bit further on,” 
said Sarah. “I’ve been along this ’ere road 
several times. It goes on and on right into the 
country.” 

“ I know,” said Peggy, “ it goes on into the 
country of the mountings. But, Sarah,” she 
said, stopping short, and looking rather dis- 
tressed, “I don’t think we see them any plainer 
than from the nursery window, and the white 
cottage doesn’t look even as plain. Are you 
sure we’re going the right way f 

“We couldn’t go wrong,” answered Sarah, 
“there’s no other way. But we’ve come no 
distance yet, missy, and you see there’s ups and 
downs in the road that comes between us and 
the ’ills somehow. I suppose at the window 


UP FERNLE7 ROAD. 


173 


we could see straight forward-like, and then we 
was ’igher up.” 

‘‘Yes, that must be it,” said Peggy ; “but I 
would like to go far enough to see a little 
plainer, Sarah, wouldn’t you ? I’ve got the red 
shoes in my pocket, you know, and when we 
come to a place where we can see very nice 
and clear I’ll take them out and let them see 
too.” 

“ Lor’,’^ said Sarah, “ you are funny, missy.” 

But she smiled so good-naturedly that Peggy 
did not mind. 

After a bit they came to a place where an- 
other road crossed the one they were on. This 
other road was planted with trees along one 
side, and the shade they cast looked cool and 
tempting. 

“ I wish we could go along that way,” said 
Peggy, “ but it would be the wrong way. It 
doesn’t go on to the mountings.” 

Sarah did not answer for a minute. She was 
trying to spell out some letters that were 
painted up on the corner of a wall, which in- 
closed the garden of a house standing in the 
road they were looking down. 

“ ‘ B, K, A,’ ” she began, “ ‘ B, K, A, C, K : ’ 
it’s it, just look, missy. Bain’t that Bracken* 


174 - 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


shire as large as life ? ^ Brackenshire Hoad.’ 

It must be this way/’ and she looked quite 
delighted. 

“ But how can it be ?” objected Peggy. 
“ This road doesn’t go to the hills, Sarah. 
They’re straight in front.” 

But maybe it slopes round again after a 
bit,” said Sarah. “ Lots of roads does that way, 
and runs the same way really, though you 
wouldn’t think so at the start. It stands to 
reason, when it’s got the name painted up, it 
must lead Brackenshire way and then sud- 
denly, as a man with a basket on his arm ap- 
peared coming out of one of the houses, she 
darted up to him. 

“ Please, mister, does this road lead to Brack- 
enshire ?” she asked. 

The man did not look very good-natured. 

Lead to where ?” he said gruffly. 

“ To Brackenshire — it’s painted up on the 
wall, but we want to be sure.” 

If it’s painted up on the wall, what’s the 
sense of askin’ me ?” he said. If you go far 
enough no doubt you’ll get there. There’s 
more’n one road to Brackenshire.” 

Sarah was quite satisfied. 

-/^You see,” .she said to Peggy, running back 


UP FERNLET ROAD, 


175 


to her, “ it’s all right. If we go along this ’ere 
road a bit, I ’specs it’ll turn again and then 
we’ll see the ’ills straight in front.” 

Peggy had no objection. Fernley Poad was 
bare and glaring just about there, and the trees 
were very tempting. 

“ It’s really getting like the country,” said 
Peggy as they passed several pretty gardens, 
larger and much prettier than the small ones 
in Fernley Road. 

^^Yes,” Light Smiley agreed, ^‘but though 
gardings is nice, I don’t hold with gardings 
anything like as much as fields. Fields is 
splendid where you can race about and jump 
and do just as you like, and no fears of breakin’ 
flowers or nothink.” 

Do you think we shall come to fields like 
that soon ?” said Peggy. If there was a very 
nice one we might go into it p’r’aps and rest a 
little, and look at the mountings. I wish we 
could begin to see the mountings again, Sarah ; 
it seems quite strange without them, and I’m 
getting rather tired of looking at gardens when 
we can’t go inside them, aren’t you ?” 

Sarah was feeling very contented and 
happy. She was, though a little body for her 
age, much stronger than Peggy, as well as two 


176 


LITTLE MISS PEOQY. 


years older, and slie looked at her companion 
with surprise when she began already to talk 
of “ resting.” 

“ Lor’, missy, you bain’t tired already,” she 
was beginning, when she suddenly caught sight 
of something which made her interrupt herself. 
This was another road crossing the one they 
were on at right angles, and running therefore 
in the same direction as Fernley Road again. 
“ ’Ere’s our way,” she cried, now didn’t I tell 
you so ? And this way goes slopin’ up a bit, 
you see. When we get to the top we’ll see the 
’ills straight afore us, and ’ave a beeyutiful 
view.” 

Peggy’s rather flagging steps grew brisker at 
this, and the two ran gayly along the new road 
for a little way. But running uphill is tiring, 
and it seemed to take them a long time to get 
to the top of the slope, and when they did so, 
it was only to be disappointed. Neither moun- 
tains nor hills nor white cottage were to be 
seen, only before them a rather narrow sort of 
lane, sloping downward now and seeming to 
lead into some rather rough waste ground, 
where it ended. Peggy’s face grew rather 
doleful, but Sarah was quite equal to the occa- 
sion, A little down the hill she spied a stile, 


UP FEHNLET ROAD. 


177 


over whicli she persuaded Peggy to climb. 
They found themselves in a potato field, but a 
potato field with a path down the middle ; it 
was a large field and ^at the other end of the 
path was a gate, opening on to a cart track 
scarcely worthy the name of a lane. The 
children followed it, however, till another stile 
tempted them again, this time into a little 
wood, where they got rather torn and scratched 
by brambles and nettles as they could not 
easily find a path, and Sarah fancied by forcing 
their way through the bushes they would be 
sure to come out on to the road again. 

It was not, however, till they had wandered 
backward among the trees and brambles for 
some time that they got on to a real path, and 
they had to walk a good way along this till 
they at last came on another gate, this time 
sure enough opening into the high-road. 

Sarah’s spirits recovered at once. 

’Ere we are,” she said cheerfully, all 
right. ’Ere’s Fernley Eoad again. Nothink to 
do but to turn round and go ’ome if you’re 
tired, missy. I’m not tired, but if you’d rayther 
go no further ” 

Peggy did not answer for a moment; she 
was staring about her on all sides. The pros- 


178 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


pect was not a very inviting one ; the road was 
bare and ugly, dreadfully dusty, and there was 
no shade anywhere, and at a little distance some 
great tall chimneys were to be seen, the chim- 
neys of some iron works, from which smoke 
poured forth. There were a good many little 
houses near the tall chimneys ; they were the 
houses of the people who worked there, but 
they were not sweet little cottages such as 
Peggy dreamed of. Indeed they looked more 
like a very small ugly town than like rows of 
cottages on a country road. 

This isn’t a pretty road at all,” said Peggy 
at last, rather crossly I am afraid ; “ it is very 
nugly, and you shouldn’t have brought me here, 
Sarah. I can’t see the mountings ; they is 
quite goned away, more goned away than when 
it rains, for then they’re only behind the clouds. 
This isn’t Fernley Road, Light Smiley. I do 
believe you’ve losted us, and Peggy’s so tired, 
and very, very un’appy.” 

It was Peggy’s way when she grew low- 
spirited to speak more babyishly than usual ; 
at such times it was too much trouble to think 
about being a big girl. Poor Sarah looked 
dreadfully distressed. 

Oh, missy dear, don’t cry,” she said “ If 


UP FERNLET ROAD. 


179 


it bain’t Fernley Road, it’s a road anyway, and 
there’s no call to be frightened. We can ax 
our way, but I’d rayther not ax it at the 
cottages, for they might think I was a tramp 
that ’d stoled you away.” 

And what would they do then ?” asked 
Peggy, leaving off crying for a minute. 

“ They’d ’ave me up mebbe, and put us in the 
lock-up.” 

What’s that ?” 

“ The place where the p’lice leaves folk as 
they isn’t sure about.” 

“ Prison, do you mean ?” said Peggy, growing 
very pale. 

“Well, not ezackly, but somethin’ like.” 

Peggy caught hold of Sarah in sudden 
terror. 

“ Oh, come along. Light Smiley, quick, quick. 
Let’s get back into the fields and hide or any- 
thing. Oh, conie quick, for fear they should 
catch us.” And she tugged at Sarah, trying to 
drag her along the road. 

“Stop, missy, don’t take on so; there’s no 
need. “We’ll just go along quietly and no 
one’ll notice us, only you stop crying, and then 
mo one’ll think any ’arm. We’ll not go back 
the way we came, it’s so drefful thorny, but well 


180 


LITTLE MISS PEGGT. 


look out for another road or a path. I ’spects 
you’re right enough — this ’ere bain’t Fernley 
Road.” 

Peggy swallowed down her sobs. 

“ I don’t think you look quite big enough to 
have stolened me, Sarah,” she said at last. 
“ But I would like to get back into the fields 
quick. If only we could see the mountings 
again, I wouldn’t be quite so frightened.” 

They had not gone far before they came upon 
a gateway and a path leading through a field 
where there seemed no difficulties. Crossing it 
they found themselves at the edge of the thorny 
wood, which they skirted for some way. Peg- 
gy’s energy, born of fear, began to fail. 

“ Sarah,” she said at last, bursting into fresh 
tears, Peggy can’t go no further, and I’m so 
hungry too. I’m sure it’s long past dinner-time. 
You must sit down and rest ; p’r’aps if I rested 
a little, I wouldn’t feel so very un’appy.” 

Sarah looked at her almost in despair. She 
herself was worried and vexed, very afraid too 
of the scolding which certainly awaited her at 
home, but she was not tired nor dispirited, 
though very sorry for Peggy, and quite aware 
that it was she and not “missy” who was to 
blame for this unlucky expedition. 


VP FEBNLET ROAD, 


181 


I’d like to get on,” she said ; we’re sure to 
get back into a road as’ll take ns ’ome before 
long. Couldn’t I carry you, missy ?” 

^^No,” said Peggy, “you’re far too little. 
And I can’t walk any more without resting. 
You’re very unkind. Light Smiley, and I wish 
I’d never seen you.” 

Poor Sarah bore this bitter reproach in 
silence. 

She looked about for a comfortable seat in 
the hedge, and settled herself so that Peggy 
could rest against her. The sunshine, though 
it had seemed hot and glaring on the bare, dusty 
road, was not really very powerful, for it was 
only late April, though avery summer-like day. 
Peggy left off crying and said no more, but 
leaned contentedly enough against Sarah. 

“ I’m comf’able now,” she said, closing her 
eyes. “Thank you. Light Smiley. I’ll soon 
be rested, and then we’ll go on.” 

But in a moment or two, by the way she 
breathed, Sarah saw that she had fallen 
asleep. 

“ Bless us,” thought the little guardian to 
herself, “ she may sleep for hours. Whatever 
’ull I do? She’s that tired — and when she 
wakes she’ll be that ’ungry, there’ll be no get- 


182 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


ting her along. She’ll be quite faint-like. If 
I dared leave her, I’d run on till I found the 
road and got somebody to ’elp carry her. But 
I dursn’t. If she woked up and me gone, she’d 
be runnin’ who knows where, and mebbe never 
be found again. Poor missy — it’ll be lock-up 
and no mistake, wusser I dare say for me, and 
quite right too. Mother’ll never say I’m fit for 
a nussery after makin’ sich a fool of myself.” 

And in spite of her courage, the tears began 
to trickle down Sarah’s face. Peggy looked so 
white and tiny, lying there almost in her arms, 
that it made her heart ache to see her. So she 
shut her own eyes and tried to think w^hat to 
do. And the thinking grew gradually confused 
and mixed up with all sorts of other thinkings. 
Sarah fancied she heard her mother calling her 
and she tried to answer, but somehow the words 
would not come. 

And at last, though she was really so anxious 
and distressed, the quiet and the mild air, and 
the idleness perhaps, to which none of the 
Simpkins family were much accustomed, all 
joined together and by degrees hushed poor 
Light Smiley to sleep, her arms clasped round 
Peggy as if to protect her from any possible 
danger. 


/^nj at last, sht was nally so anxious 

and di'sl'rtssid, tl^t cjuUf and fht mi u ^<»*,ancl 
fUi idl^ntss p2.Thaf?5, to wlnicti nom of tKi Sim|>: 
kins •faYnily Win muck accu5tom£cl, all joint d 
togitliif and l>y cli^rus Kushid poor i-igW 
Sniilcy to 5liijo, kir arms claspid ^ 

round ^ ‘f to prottct 

Ktr -from any possikk 
dan^tr., '* 






UP FERNLET ROAD. 


183 


It would have been a touching picture, had 
there been any one there to see. Unluckily, 
not merely for the sake of the picture, but for 
that of the children themselves, there was no 
one. 


184 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


CHAPTER XIL 

THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN. 

ril love you through the happy years, 

Till Fm a nice old lady.'’^ 

— Poems Written for a Child. 

When they woke, both of them at the same 
moment it seemed, though probably one had 
roused the other without knowing it, the sun 
had gone, the sky looked dull, it felt chilly and 
strange. Peggy had thought it must be past 
dinner-time before they had sat down to rest ; 
it seemed now as if it must be past tea-time 
too ! 

Sarah started up, Peggy feebly clinging to 
her. 

Oh, dear, dear,” said Sarah, I shouldn’t 
have gone to sleep, and it’s got that cold !” 
She was shivering herself, but Peggy seemed 
much the worse of the two. She was white 
and pinched looking, and as if she were half- 
stupefied. 


THE 8H0ES-LADY AGAIN. 


185 


I’m so cold,” she said, alid so hungry. I 
thought I was in bed at home. I do so want 
to go home. I’m sure it’s very late. Light 
Smiley ; do take me home.” 

L’m sure, missy, it’s what I want to do,” 
said poor Sarah. I’m af eared it’s a-going to 
rain, and whatever ’ull we do then? You 
wouldn’t wait -^ere a minute, would you, while 
I run to see if there’s a road near ?” 

No, no,” said Peggy, “ I won’t stay alone. 
I’m very, very frightened. Light Smiley, and I 
think I’m going to die.” 

Oh, Lor’, missy, don’t you say that,” said 
Sarah, in terror. If you can’t walk I’ll carry 
you.” 

“ I’ll try to walk,” said Peggy, picking 
up some spirit when she saw Sarah’s white 
face. 

And then the two set off again, dazed and 
miserable, very different from the bright little 
pair that had started up Fernley Road that 
morning. 

Things, however, having got to the worst, 
began to mend, or at least were beginning to 
mend for them, though Peggy and Sarah did 
not just yet know it. Not far from the edge of 
the field where they were^ a little bridle-path 


186 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


led into a lane, and a few yards down this lane 
brought them out upon Fernley Eoad again at 
last. 

I see the mountings,” cried Peggy ; oh, 
Light Smiley, Peggy sees the mountings. 
P’r’aps we won’t die, oh, p’r’aps we’ll get home 
safe again.” 

But though she had been trying to be brave, 
now that she began to hope again, it was too 
much for her poor little nerves — Peggy burst 
into loud sobbing. 

Oh, dear missy, try not to cry,” said Sarah. 
‘‘ There — there — where’s your hankercher ?” and 
she dived into Peggy’s pocket in search of it. 
And as she pulled it out, out tumbled at the 
same time the two little scarlet shoes, falling 
on the ground. 

“ Oh, Light Smiley, my red shoes. They’ll 
be all spoilt and dirtied,” said Peggy, as well as 
she could, for Sarah was dabbing the handker- 
chief all over her face. 

Sarah stooped to pick them up ; both chil- 
dren were too much engaged to notice the sound 
of wheels coming quickly along the quiet road. 
But the sight of a speck of dirt on one of the 
shoes set Peggy off crying again, and she cried 
for once pretty loudly. The wheels came 


THE SHOES-LADT AG AIK. 


187 


nearer, and then stopped, and this made Sarah 
look round. A pony-cariage driven by a lady 
had drawn up just beside them. The groom, 
sitting behind, jumped down, though looking 
as if he did not know what he was to do. 

“ What is the matter, little girls ?” said the 
lady. 

“It’s, please ’m — we’ve lost our road — it’s 
all along o’ me, mum — but I didn’t mean no 

’arm, only missy’s that wore out ’m, and ” 

but before Sarah could get further, she was 
stopped by a sort of cry from both the lady 
and Peggy at once. 

“ Oh, oh,” called out Peggy, “ it’s the shoes- 
lady — oh, pel ease, pelease take me home,” 
and she seemed ready to dart into the lady’s 
arms. 

“ I do believe,” she said, “ I do believe it’s 
the little girl I saw at the bootmaker’s, and — 
yes, of course it is — there are the shoes them- 
selves ! My dear child, whatever are you doing 
to be so far from home — at least I suppose you 
live in the town ? — and what have you got the 
dolly’s shoes with you for ?” 

“ I brought them for them to see the moun- 
tings and the white cottage,” sobbed Peggy ; 
“ but I’m so cold and hungry, pelease take me 
home, oh, pelease do.” 


188 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


The lady seemed rather troubled. Even if 
she had not remembered Peggy, she would 
have seen in a moment that she was a little 
lady, though Peggy looked miserable enough 
with her torn clothes and scratched and tear- 
stained face. 

“ Poor child,” she said, “ tell me your name 
and where you live.” 

aj^m Peggy, but I don’t amember my 
nother name, ’cos I’m tired and it’s very long,” 
she said. 

The lady looked at Sarah. Sarah shook her 
head. 

No, mum, I don’t know it neither, but I 
knows the name of the street. ’Tis Bernard 
Street, ’m — off Fernley Boad, and their back 
winders looks over to us. We’re Simpkinses, 
’m, and missy’s mar knows as we’re ’s^^eckable, 
and mother she never thought when she told 
me to take back the humberellar as I’d lead 
missy sich a dance. I’ll never do for the 
nussery, no, never. I’m not steady enough,” 
and here Light Smiley gave signs of crying 
herself. 

It was not easy for the lady to make out the 
story, but by degrees, with patience she did so. 
But while talking she had lifted Peggy into 


THE mOES-LAD Y AGAIN. 1 89 

the carriage beside her, and wrapped her up in 
a shawl that lay on the seat, Peggy nestling in, 
quite contentedly. 

“ Now,” said the lady, “ you get in too, Sarah 
Simpkins, and I’ll drive you both home. I 
was on my way home out into the country, but 
I can’t leave you here on the road. This is 
Fernley Koad, but it’s quite four miles from 
the town.” 

In scrambled Sarah, divided between fear of 
her own and Peggy’s relations’ scoldings when 
they got home, and the delight and honor of 
driving in a carriage ! The groom would have 
liked to look grumpy, I am quite sure, but he 
dared not. Peggy, for her part, crept closer and 
closer to the lady, and ended by falling asleep 
again, so that it was a good thing Light Smiley 
was sitting on the other side, to keep her from 
falling out. 

The four miles seemed very short to Sarah, 
and as they got into the outskirts of the town 
her face grew longer and longer. 

I’m more’n half a mind to run away, I 
’ave,” she said to herself, quite unaware she 
was speaking aloud. “It’ll be mpre’n I can 
stand, mother and Eebecca and all on ’em down 
on me, for I didn’t mean no ’arm. I’d best run 
away.” 


190 


LITTLE MISS PEQQT. 


The lady turned to her ; hitherto she had not 
taken much notice of Sarah, but now she felt 
sorry for the little girl. 

What are you saying, my dear she said 
gently, though all the same her voice made 
Sarah jump. “ Are you afraid of going home ? 
You have not done anything naughty, ex- 
actly, as far as I understand. It was only 
thoughtless. I will go with you to your home 
if you like, and explain to your mother how it 
was.” 

“ Oh, thank you, mum,” said Sarah eagerly, 
her spirits rising again at once ; you see, mum, 
I do so want to be in the nussery onst I’m big 
enough, and I was so afeared mother’d never 
think of it again. I only wanted to please little 
missy, for she seemed so lonely like, her mar 
and all bein’ away and no one for to take her a 
walk. She’s a sweet little missy, she is, but 
she’s only a baby, so to say ; she do have such 
funny fancies. ’Twas all to see the cottage on 
the ’ills she wanted to come up Fernley Road 
so badly.” 

The cottage — what cottage ?” asked the 
lady. 

Sarah tried to explain, and gradually the 
lady got to understand what little. Peggy had 


THE SHOES^LADT AGAIN". 


191 


meant about bringing tbe red shoes “ to see the 
mountings and the cottage.” 

She’s always a-talking of the country, and 
father lived there when he was a boy, and 
missy had got it in her ’ead that he lived in a 
white cottage, like the one she fancies about,” 
Sarah went on. 

“ I would like to take her out into the real 
country, poor little pet,” said the lady, looking 
tenderly at the SAveet tiny face of the sleeping 
child. She loved all children, but little girls of 
Peggy’s age were especially dear to her, for 
many years before she had had a younger sister 
Avho had died, and the thought of her had come 
into her mind the first time she had seen Peggy 
at the door of the shoe shop. If I can see any 
of her friends I will ask them to let her spend 
a day with me,” she went on, speaking more to 
herself than to Sarah. 

As they turned into Bernard Street a cab 
dashed past them coming very fast from the 
opposite direction. It drew up in front of the 
house Avhich Sarah Avas just that moment point- 
ing out to the lady as Peggy’s home, and a 
gentleman, followed by a young woman, sprang 
out. The door was opened almost as soon as 
they rang, and then the three, the other servant 


192 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


who had answered the bell, the young woman, 
and the gentleman, all stood together on the 
steps talking so anxiously and eagerly that for 
a moment or two they did not notice the pony- 
carriage, and though the groom knew the whole 
story by this time and had jumped down at 
once, he was far too proper to do anything till 
he had his lady’s orders. 

Ask the gentleman to speak to me,” said 
the lady, and you jump out, little Sarah. I 
think he must be Peggy’s father.” 

He had turned round by this time and came 
hurrying forward. The moment the lady saw 
him she knew she had guessed right. He was 
so like Peggy — fair and gray-eyed, and with the 
same gentle expression, and very young-looking 
to be the father not only of Peggy, but of big 
little boys like Thor and Terry. His face 
looked pale and anxious, but the moment he 
caught sight of the little sleeping figure lean- 
ing against the lady* it all lighted up and a red 
flush came into his cheeks. 

“ Oh — thank God,” he exclaimed, “my little 
Peggy ! You have found her ! How good of 
you ! But — she is not hurt ? — she is all right ?” 

“ Yes — yes — only cold and hungry and tired,” 
said the lady eagerly, for Peggy did look rather 


THE SHOES- LADY AGAIN. 


193 


miserable still. Will you lift her out ?” and 
as he did so, she got out herself, and turned to 
Sarah. May I bring this other child in for a 
moment ?” she said, “ and then I can explain it 
all.” 

Sarah followed gladly, but a sudden thought 
struck her. Please ’m,” she said bravely, 
though the tears came to her eyes as she spoke, 
‘‘ p’r’aps I’d best run ’ome ; mother’ll be fright* 
ened about me.” 

But I promised you should not be scolded,” 
said the lady ; stay,” and she turned to Fanny, 
she lives close to, she says.” 

^^At the back — over the cobbler’s,” said 
Sarah readily. 

Can you let her mother know she’s all right, 
then ? And say I am coming to speak to her 
in a moment,” said the lady, and Fanny went 
off. She had been so terrified about Peggy, 
and so afraid that she would be blamed for 
carelessness, that she dared not wait, though 
she was dying with curiosity to know the whole 
story' and what one of the Simpkins children 
could have had to do with it. 

Peggy awoke by the time her father had got 
her into the dining-room, where cook had made 
a good fire and laid out Peggy’s dinner and tea 


194 


LITTLE MISS PEGGT. 


in one to be all ready, for the poor woman had 
been hoping every instant for the last few 
hours that the little girl would be brought 
home again. It had been difficult to find Peg- 
gy’s father, as he was not at his office, and 
Fanny had been there two or three times to 
fetch him. 

Oh, dear papa,” were Peggy’s first words, 
^‘I’m so glad to be home. I’ll never go up 
Fernley Koad again ; but I did so want to see 
the cottage and the mountings plainer. And it 
wasn’t Light Smiley’s fault. She was very 
good to me, and I was very cross.” 

This did not much clear up matters. Indeed 
Peggy’s father was afraid for a minute or two 
that his little girl was going to have a fever, 
and that her mind was wandering. But all 
such fears were soon set at rest, and when the 
lady went olf with Sarah, she left Peggy set- 
ting to work very happily at her dinner or tea, 
she was not sure which to call it. 

^^And you will let her come to spend the 
day with me to-morrow ?” said the lady as she 
shook hands with Peggy’s father. “ I shall be 
driving this way, and I can call for her. I 
should not be happy not to know that she was 
none the worse for her adventures to-day.” 


TEE SH0E8-LADY AGAIN, 


195 


Then the 'lady took Sarah by the hand and 
went round,^ with her to the home in the back 
street, telling the groom to wait for her at the 
corner. 

It was well she went herself, for otherwise I 
am afraid poor Light Smiley would not have 
escaped the scolding she dreaded. Her mother 
and sisters had been very unhappy and frighb 
ened about her, and when people — especially 
poor mothers like Mrs. Simpkins, with ^^so 
many children that they don’t know what to 
do ” — are anxious and frightened, I have often 
noticed that it makes them very cross. 

As it was, however, the lady managed to 
smooth it all down, and before she left she got 
not only Sarah’s mother, but Rebecca and Mary- 
Hann and all of them to promise to say no 
more about it. 

“ ’Tisn’t only for myself I was feelin’ so put 
about, you see, ma’am,” said Mrs. Simpkins, 
‘‘ but when I sent over the way and found the 
little missy was not to be found it flashed upon 
me like a lightenin’ streak — it did that, ma’am 
— that the two was off together. And if any 
’arm had come to the little lady through one of 
mine, so to say, it would ’ave gone nigh to break 
my ’art. For their mar is a sweet lady — a real 
feelin’ lady is their mar.” 


196 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


“ And a kind friend to you, I dare say,” said 
the stranger. 

Couldn’t be a kinder as far as friendly words 
and old clotheses goes,” said Mrs. Simpkins. 
“ But she’s a large little fam’ly of her own, and 
not so very strong in ’ealth, and plenty to do 
with their money. And so to speak strangers 
in the place, though she ’ave said she’d do her 
best to get a place in a nice fam’ly for one of 
my girls.” 

The lady glanced at the group of sisters. 

^^Yes,” she said, “I should think you could 
spare one or two. How w^ould you like to be 
in a -kitchen ?” she added, turning to Bebecca. 

The girl blushed so that her face matched 
her arms, and she looked more “ reddy ” than 
ever. But she shook her head. 

I’m afraid ” she began. 

“No, ma’am, thank you kindly, but I 
couldn’t spare Bebecca,” the mother interrupted. 
“ If it were for Mary-Hann, now — Matilda 
Jane’s coming on and could take her place. 
Only, for I couldn’t deceive you, ma’am, she’s 
rather deaf.” 

“ I shouldn’t mind that,” said the lady, who 
was pleased by Mary Ann’s bright eyes and 
pleasant face. “ I think deaf people some- 


THE SEOES-LADY AGAIN. 


197 


times work better tkan quick-hearing ones ; be- 
sides, it may perhaps be cured. I will speak 
about her to my housekeeper and let you know. 
And you, Sarah, you are to be in the nursery 
some day.” 

Sarah grinned with delight, 

‘^Not just yet,” said Mrs. Simpkins; ^^she 
’ave a deal to learn, ’ave Sarah. Schooling and 
stiddiness to begin with. She don’t mean no 
’arm. I’ll allow.” 

No ; I’m sure she wants to be a very good 
girl,” said the lady. She was very kind and 
gentle to little Miss Peggy. So I won’t forget 
you either, Sarah, when the time comes.” 

And then the lady said good-by to them all. 
and Mrs. Simpkins’ heart felt lighter than for 
long, for she was sure that - through this new 
friend she might get the start in life she had 
been hoping for for her many daughters. 

Peggy slept off her fatigue, and by the next 
morning she was quite bright again and able 
to listen to and understand papa’s explanation 
of how, though without meaning to be dis- 
obedient, she had done wrong the day before in 
setting off Avifch Sarah Simpkins as she had 
done. Two or three tears rolled slowly down 
her cheeks as she heard what he said. 


198 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


I meant to be so good while mamma was 
away,” she whispered. But I’ll never do it 
again, papa. I’ll stay quiet in the nursery all 
alone, even if Miss Earnshaw doesn’t come 
back at all.” 

For a message had come from the dressmaker 
that her mother was very ill, as Fanny had 
feared, and that she was afraid she would not 
be able to leave her for several days. 

It won’t be so bad as that, dear,” said her 
father. Mamma will be back in five days 
now, and I don’t think you are likely to be left 
alone in the nursery — certainly not to-day and 
then he told her about the lady having asked 
her to spend the day out in the country with 
her, and that Peggy must be ready by twelve 
o’clock, not to keep her new friend waiting. 

Peggy’s eyes gleamed with delight. 

Out into the country ?” she said. Oh, how 
lovely ! And oh, papa, do you think p’r’aps she 
lives in a white cottage ?” 

Papa shook his head. 

“ I’m afraid it’s not a cottage at all where she 
lives,” he said. But I’m sure it is a very 
pretty house and let us hope it is a white one.” 

No,” said Peggy, you don’t understand, 
papa — not as well as mamma does. I don’t 
care what color it is if it’s only an ’ouse.” 


THE SHOES-LAHY AGAIN. 


100 


And she couldn’t understand why papa 
laughed so that he really couldn’t correct her. 
“ I’m afraid, Peggy,” he said, you’ve been 
taking lessons from little Miss Simpkins. It’s 
time mamma came home again to look after 
you.” 

“ Yes, I wish mamma was come home again,” 
said Peggy. “We can’t do without her, can we, 
papa ?” 

But w^hen the dear little pony-carriage came 
up to the door, and Peggy got in and drove off 
with her kind friend, she was so happy that 
she had not even time to wish for mamma. 

And what a delightful day she had ! The 
lady’s house was very pretty, and the gardens 
and woods in which it stood even prettier in 
Peggy’s opinion. And though it was not a cot- 
tage, there were 'all the country things to see 
which Peggy was so fond of — cocks and hens, 
and cows, and in one field lots of sheep and 
sweet little lambkins. There were pigs, too, 
which Peggy would not look at, but ran away 
to the other end of the yard as soon as she 
heard them “ grumphing,” which amused the 
lady very much. And in the afternoon she 
went a walk with her friend through the vil- 
lage. where there were several pretty cottages, 


^00 


LITTLE MISS PEGO T. 


but none that quite fitted Peggy’s fancy. 
When they came in again Peggy stood at the 
drawing-room window, which looked out to- 
ward Brackenshire, without speaking. 

You like that view, don’t you, dear?” said 
the lady. “ You can see the hills ?” 

‘‘Yes,” said Peggy, “I can see the mount- 
ings, but not the white cottage. It’s got turned 
wrong somehow, from here. I can only see 
it from the nursery window at home,” and she 
gave a very little sigh. 

“ Some day,” said the lady, “ some day in 
the summer when the afternoons are very long, 
I will drive you right out a long way among 
the hills, and perhaps we’ll find the cottage 
then. For I hope your mamma will often let 
you come to see me, my little Peggy.” 

“Yes,” said Peggy, “that would be lovely. 
I wonder if we’d find the white cottage.” 

No, they never did ! The sweet long summer 
days came, and many a bright and happy one 
Peggy spent with her kind friend, but they 
never found the white cottage on the hill. 
Peggy knew it so well in her mind, she felt she 
could not mistake it, but though she saw many 
white cottages which any one else might have 
thought was it, she knew better. And each 
time, though she sighed a little,she hoped again. 


TEE SHOES LADY AGAIN. 


201 


But before anotber summer came around 
Peggy and her father and mother, and Thor, 
and Terry, and Hal, and Baldwin, and baby 
had all gone away — far away to the south, 
many hours’ journey from the dingy town and 
the Fernley Boad, and the queer old house in 
the back street where lived the cobbler and old 
Mother Whelan and Brown Smiley and Light 
Smiley and all the rest of them. Far away too 
from the hills and the strange white speck in 
the distance which Peggy called her cottage. 

So it never was more than a dream to her 
after all, and perhaps — perhaps it was best so ? 
For nothing has ever spoiled the sweetness and 
the mystery of the childish fancy — she can see 
it with her mind’s eye still — the soft white 
speck on the far-away blue hills — she can see 
it and think of it and make fancies about it 
even now — now that she has climbed a long, 
long way up the mountain of life, and will 
soon be creeping slowly down the other side, 
where the sun still shines, however, and there 
are even more beautiful things to hope for than 
the sweetest dreams of childhood. 


202 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


EEYPHINA’S CHILD. 

In old times, when there were good kings as 
well as bad, mild-tempered and gentle women 
as well as sour and peevish ones, there lived a 
good King of Vannes, who had a daughter called 
Eryphina. She was as sweet as new milk fresh 
from the cow ; no one had ever seen her angry, 
and the worst people became better when they 
were near her. The king loved nothing in the 
world so much as his daughter Eryphina. 

Unfortunately the princess was as beautiful 
as she was good, and the fame of her beauty 
had spread to all parts of the world. When 
she was only sixteen, Commore, Count of 
Cornouailles, sent an embasssy to the King of 
Vannes, to demand of him his daughter in 
marriage. 

‘^Give me thy daughter,” said Commore; 
‘‘ and though I am lord of the country where 
the black wheat grows, she shall never want 
for white bread and meat ; she shall be both 
rich and happy.” 


ERYPHINA CHILD. 


203 


The King of Vannes had doubts as to the 
happiness, whatever the riches might be. He 
knew that the count was a powerful prince, 
whose coffers were full of gold, and his land 
well stocked with cattle; but he knew also 
that he was cruel to his subjects, that he was 
twenty years older than the little Eryphina, 
and that he had already had four wives, who 
all died without children, and without its be- 
ing known what had killed them. Besides, 
the prospect of such a marriage terrified Ery- 
phina beyond measure. She wept so much 
that her father determined to keep her at 
home. So he said to the envoys of the count : 

“ I thank your master for the honor which 
he has done us by wishing for our alliance ; 
but my daughter is still too young to think of 
marriage ; she desires to remain with me.” 

The ambassadors withdrew in the greatest 
alarm, for they knew that this refusal would 
enrage their master exceedingly. And indeed 
they had no sooner delivered their message 
and explained why they appeared before him 
mthout the princess, than the terrible sword 
of Commore sprang from the scabbard and the 
three envoys lay dead at his feet. Then he 
sent back this message to the king of the white 
country : 


20^ LITTLE MISS PEOGY. 

“ Prepare tliy arms and tliy soldiers for bat- 
tle, for I will make war against thee in all my 
might, unless thou give me thy daughter in 
marriage.” 

The King of Vannes was a brave man, and 
these defiant words of Commore’s did not in- 
crease his desire to give him his dear daughter 
— his Eryphina, who had never heard a harsh 
word since she was born. He called his sub- 
jects to arms, and in all parts of the country 
of Vannes the people made themselves ready 
for battle. They came forward willingly, un- 
like the people of Cornouailles, who never 
went to war except from fear of their lord. 
They all knew Erpphina, and every man was 
ready to give his life for her, while the women 
stayed at home and wept. 

The soldiers of Commore had set out on 
their march, when a holy monk, named Veltas, 
who had often preached both in the country 
of Vannes and the kingdom of Commore, came 
to seek Eryphina in her father’s palace. 

“ What is this ?” he said to her. “ Shall a 
baptized Christian woman allow the men of 
two countries to kill each other for her sake — 
to die, perhaps, in mortal sin, and to go straight 
to everlasting punishment ? Even if it be true 


EBTPHmA ’/S CHILD. 


205 


that Commore is wicked and cruel, of what im- 
portance is the happiness of one woman for a 
few years on earth, compared to the eternal 
welfare of so many Christian souls ?” 

Poor Eryphina trembled as she heard these 
stern words. Her fear of Commore was so 
great that she grew pale at the very sound of 
his name. But the holy man, without heeding 
her, continued : 

Here is a ring as white as milk. If you 
marry the Count of Cornouailles, and if the 
time should ever come when your life is in 
danger, it will immediately become as black as 
iron ; then send it to the king your father, and 
he will come and deliver you. It is your fate 
to marry Commore. My daughter, fight no 
longer against the will of God.” 

Eryphina dared not utter a word. She 
looked at the ring shining on her finger — the 
fatal ring that was to warn her of unknown 
dangers at which she trembled beforehand, and 
then she knelt down before the holy monk, 
who accepted her mute submission and gave 
her his blessing : 

May the great God of heaven and his only 
son Jesus Christ bless you in life, and after 
death receive you into paradise,” said Veltas, 


206 


LITTLE MISS PEQGT. 


as he hastened away to stop the march of the 
soldiers of Commore. 

The king at first tried to shake Eryphina’s 
resolution ; but the poor child had made a vow 
to Our Lady to offer herself up as a martyr in 
order to prevent the massacre of so many help- 
less souls ; and the King of Vannes, who knew 
that he was less powerful than his enemy, was 
obliged to submit. His daughter' must be sac- 
rificed that his people might be saved. It is 
sometimes a hard thing to be a princess. 

Commore was in high good-humor wLen he 
arrived at the court of the King of Vannes, 
Satisfaction in having obtained the object of 
his desire, Eryphina’s great beauty and sweet- 
ness, the riches displayed during the marriage 
festivities, all combined to soften the ferocity 
of his temper. Although he had seen thirty- 
five summers, he was still handsome and young- 
looking ; he was very tall, and so strong that 
he could lift an ox by his horns ; and his eyes 
were bright and fine, but full of fire. The king, 
who had conceived a very bad opinion of his 
future son-in-law, was agreeably surprised to 
find him so gay and handsome, and began to 
hope for the best. 

After the marriage festival, which lasted 


ERYPEINA 'S CHILD. 


207 


three days, .during which a hundred oxen and 
three hundred sheep were killed and distrib- 
uted among the people, Commore took his 
young wife home. St. Veltas blessed her as 
she departed : Paradise is yours,” he said ; 
“ but you must first endure the sufferings of 
earth.” 

Eryphina trembled and raised her eyes to 
heaven. She had made her sacrifice, and re- 
grets would come too late. 

For some months all went well. The young 
countess often asked herself how Commore 
could have been called cruel. He was always 
kind to her ; and as he was very clever, he 
found a hundred ways of amusing his young 
Vvdfe, so that she hardly regretted the country 
she had left. Every day some new pleasure 
awaited her, every day rich presents assured 
her of her husband’s love. She quite lost the 
habit of looking at her ring, as she had done 
continually at first. 

“ What danger could threaten me while 
Commore is near me ?” she said, forgetting that 
it was Commore himself of whom she had been 
formerly afraid. The people of the black 
country no longer knew their lord. 

He must be either ill or bewitched,” said his 


208 


LITTLE MISS PEQGY. 


nearest attendants, for lie has ceased to care 
for blood.” When any one was so unfortunate 
enough to displease him and his eyes began to 
flash, a word from the countess would soften 
his wrath and procure for the culprit a mild- 
er punishment. In all the churches and mon- 
asteries of the black country the people offered 
up prayers to God for the long life of Ery- 
phina. 

Commore had given a large domain to St. 
Veltas on which to build a monastery, and the 
saint often came to visit the countess. When 
she spoke to him timidly of her happiness — 
for she was ashamed of the fears she had for- 
merly expressed — he shook his head. We 
are born to suffer,” he said, with a grave look ; 
and when he had passed beyond the threshold 
of the castle, he repeated to himself in Latin 
these words of the prophet : Can the Ethio- 
pian-change his skin, or the leopard his spots ?” 
He had no faith in the new-born mildness of 
Commore. 

After some time the management of his af- 
fairs called the lord of the black country to a 
distance ; his wife wept, and begged that she 
might go wdth him. ^‘No,” said Commore, 
amuse thyself in my absence ; thou wilt be 


ERTPHINA'S CHILD. 


209 


absolute mistress of everything here, and I will 
soon return to thee.” 

“ I shall never leave the castle in thy ab- 
sence,” said the countess ; how could I amuse 
myself when thou art far away ?” 

On his return, the count found his wife look- 
ing pale from long confinement to the house ; 
but she blushed with pleasure and confusion 
as she met her husband and showed him the 
work she held in her hand — a small cap of silk 
tissue, trimmed with silver lace. 

This,” she said, looking down, “ this will 
be for my little baby.” 

Commore’s eyes fiashed angrily ; then, shud- 
dering, he left his wife without a word, without 
an embrace. 

Now, for the first time, Eryphina saw in her 
lord’s face the terrible look which made him 
so much feared. She threw herself trembling 
at the foot of her crucifix, and her eyes sought 
involuntarily for the silver ring, half -hidden 
among the many costly rings with which her 
husband had loaded her fingers. She hardly 
knew it again ; it had become quite black ! 

Eryphina, who was naturally timid, stood 
petrified with terror at this unknown danger 
with which she was threatened. At the ban- 


210 


LITTLE MI88 PEOQY. 


quet whicli slie had prepared for him, her hus- 
band sat silent and gloomy, and she was as 
pale as a white rose. When night came, she 
could not sleep under her tapestry curtains. 
At midnight, as she lay awake, the hangings 
which covered the walls of the room shook as 
if blown by the night wind, and one by one 
four pale shadows appeared gliding noiselessly 
to the foot of the bed where she lay. 

Half-dead with terror, she looked at them, 
but could not speak. The first, pale, with 
livid lips and long fair hair, said, in a low 
voice : 

“I am Dalmet, Commore’s first wife.” 

The second, who had marks of discoloration 
on her throat, said, in a dull, muffled voice : 

“ I am Finlas, the second wife of Commore.” 

A bloody wound yawned on the bosom of 
the third. 

I am Haik,” she said, the third wife of 
Commore.” 

The fourth, whose face bore marks of blows, 
said : 

It is I, Mola, the count’s last wife before 
thee.” 

Then all four spoke together. 

It is thy turn now,” they said. It was 


ER7P HINA'S CHILD. 


211 


foretold him that his first child would kill 
him. We have all paid with -our lives for this 
prophecy.” 

Eryphina raised herself up in bed ; maternal 
instinct gave her courage. It was not herself 
alone she had to save, but the child that God 
might send her. Could she save it? She 
murmured between her trembling lips : 

I must fly, but how can I fly ?” 

Take this poison which killed me/’ said the 
pale shade with the livid lips. 

Take this rope which strangled me,’’ said 
she of the discolored throat. 

“ Take this dagger which stabbed me to the 
heart,” said the form with the gaping wound. 

Take this stick which broke my skull,” said 
the fourth wife of Commore. 

Eryphina rose, but she could not utter a 
word to her ghastly predecessors, who disap- 
peared silently as they came. No sooner were 
they gone than the unhappy countess hastened 
to the window and let herself down from the 
tower by means of the rope which Finlas had 
given her. With the poison which had killed 
Dalmet she silenced the great dog that wan- 
dered about the court-yard. And when she 
started on her journey, in the dark night, to 


212 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


find her way back to her own country, she was 
armed with the dagger which had stabbed 
Haik, and the stick with which Mola had been 
killed. 

As she proceeded painfully on her way, 
stumbling over the stones on the road, catch- 
ing hold of the bushes in the forest, and often 
striking herself against the trunks of trees, she 
heard overhead a rustling of wings, and by the 
first faint streaks of daylight she recognized 
her favorite falcon that she had brought with 
her from the kingdom of Vannes. 

“Falcon, my good falcon,” she said to it, 
“ thou canst go faster than I to the place where 
my heart would be ; carry this ring to my fa- 
ther, who will see that I am in danger, and will 
hasten to help me.” And cutting off with the 
dagger a lock of her hair, she fastened the ring 
round the neck of the falcon, which flew away 
as fast as if it understood the extremity of its 
mistress. 

Meantime Commore had risen early, and 
had gone to seek for his wife. She was no- 
where to be found ; and when he saw the rope 
tied to the window and his dog lying dead 
in the yard, his eyes flashed fire. Eryphina’s 
women, and the sentinels at the gates, trembled 


EHYPEINA '8 CHILD. 


213 


as they looked at him. He called for Ms 
horses and rushed after the fugitive, stopping, 
however, from time to time to search for traces 
of the small feet. He dashed across the forest, 
and very soon came to a thicket from whence 
proceeded the cry of a child. He sprang from 
his horse with a bound, pushed aside the 
branches with his strong arm, and discovered 
Eryphina, pale and terrified, hiding in her 
arms a new-born infant, whose feeble cries she 
was in vain endeavoring to stifle. Commore’s 
sword flashed for one moment in the air, and 
the next instant his wife’s head rolled into the 
brush-wood, dyeing the green leaves with her 
blood. Then shuddering and never looking 
behind him, he remounted and returned to the 
castle. He had forgotten the child. It lay 
safely concealed in the dead woman’s arms. 

It was a feast day when the falcon arrived at 
the white country. The subjects of the King 
of Vannes crowded all the squares and market- 
places, for St. Veltas had come to bless a new 
church. The king sat in the banquet-hall, with 
the monk by his side, and all his great men 
around him. They feasted and made merry, 
yet always as became Christians in the presence 
of a holy priest. The falcon flew in at the 


214 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


window, and stationed itself on the table in 
front of the king. 

What is this ?” said the king. Here is the 
falcon that my daughter Eryphina took with 
her when she left me. Ah ! holy father, you 
did well to prevent a war between our two 
countries : no one has suffered on her account, 
and Eryphina is happy.” 

“ Do not be too sure of that,” said the monk 
as he examined the falcon. The faithful bird 
had brought back its mistress’ ring ; it was 
quite black — Eryphina was in mortal danger ! 

The king rose hurriedly. Not waiting for 
his attendants, but ordering them to follow 
him, he mounted his horse and galloped off, 
St. Veltas ’following by his side on his accus- 
tomed mule. This creature, without seeming 
to hurry itself, neither lost breath nor looked 
fatigued ; yet, fast as the good war-horse went, 
the priest’s gentle mule kept pace beside it. 
The saint and the old soldier went their way 
together in search of their beloved Eryphina. 

The king galloped through the forest without 
looking either to the right or to the left : St. 
Veltas said his prayers, and asked unceasingly 
for help from Ged. Suddenly both the horse 
and the mule stopped before a thicket, from 


mrPElNA '8 CHILD. 


215 


wliicli a plaintive cry escaped — a strange hoarse 
voice, which repeated without ceasing the same 
words : 

Consecrated ground for me, and for my 
child the waters of baptism !” With these 
mournful accents mingled the feeble cry of an 
infant. 

The king trembled beneath his cuirass, but 
St. Veltas made his way into the thicket. 
There, at his feet, lay the body of Eryphina, 
the severed head uttering the words that they 
had heard, the infant still clasped in the dead 
mother’s arms. 

The king, who had followed the monk into 
the thicket, was so overwhelmed with grief and 
rage that he could not utter a word, but the 
priest’s voice sounded in the silence. 

Rise up, dead as thou art,” he cried, and 
come to the castle of the count, thy husband, 
that thon mayest convict and punish him for 
his crime.” 

As he spoke Eryphina rose ; the pale head 
returned to its place. She took her child in 
her arms, and went along with the monk and 
the king. 

The castle of Commore was closed, and well 
guarded with soldiers ; the count himself was 


216 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


on the ramparts, disguised, as if he feared dis- 
covery, in the dress and arms of a simple 
squire, with the visor of his helmet lowered. 
As the travelers approached the gates, St. Vel- 
tas called to the sentinels in a loud voice : 

I demand to see the count.” But no one 
answered, for so their master had given orders. 
The soldiers continued their rounds, and the 
pretended squire soon found himself face to 
face with his enemies. Deep ditches and 
high walls sheltered him from the arm of the 
avenger, and he felt himself safe from discov- 
ery behind his visor, but he could not take his 
terrified eyes away from the sight which met 
them — the dead Eryphina walking, with her 
living son in her arms. Suddenly the child 
slipped down from her breast. To the amaze- 
ment of all, the feeble infant, two hours old, 
stood upright on its feet, and pointing an ac- 
cusing finger at its father : 

“ Behold him !” it said distinctly, in a soft 
strange voice ; then, stretching out its small 
hand, picked up from the ground a handful of 
sand and threw it against the ramparts. In an 
instant the Avails gave way, the gates fiew open, 
the chains were broken, and the towers, shaken 
to their very foundations, fell to the ground, 


ERYPHINA *S CHILD. 


217 


burying every one that was within in their 
ruins. 

Alas ! the innocent have perished for the 
guilty,” exclaimed the good King of Vannes. 

But St. Veltas knelt down before the pile 
of ruins, and, making the sign of the cross, 
said : 

God has executed justice on the murderer, 
and taken the innocent to his eternal arms. 
Look there !” 

He pointed to Eryphina, who lay stretched 
on the ground — a corpse, only a corpse, once 
more. But there was a smile upon the quiet 
mouth, and the hands, as if there had been life 
in them still, held fast her babe. 

God is above all ; we do not understand 
his ways,” said the good priest. Let us bury 
the dead and baptize the living.” And lifting 
up the child, now again helpless as a new-born 
babe, he placed it in its grandfather’s arms. 


218 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


JEANDRIN THE GOBLIN. 

There were great rejoicings at tEe farm 
ot St. Amand. Full cans of cider went round 
the table, and many a cut was made in the 
hard cake. The meal was nearly ended, but 
the appetites of the guests, like their mirth, 
seemed without end. The farmer’s son had 
brought home to his father’s house the new 
wife whom he had found in the Pays"^ de 
France, whither he had several times gone to 
sell the oxen. From their first meeting, he 
had fallen so deeply in love with her that he 
never rested night or day till he obtained her 
hand. Her name was Perrine. She was tall 
and slender, and her blue eyes seemed so sweet 
to her young husband that he was constantly 
coming back to look at them. His old mother 
also looked at them, but with involuntary pain 
and apprehension. The farmer’s wife had not 

* The Norman peasants so designate the environs of 
Paris, the ancient Isle of France, 


JEANDRIN THE GOBLIN. 


219 


been further from home than her own village. 
She had never even accompanied her husband 
as far as Vire, where he went once a year for 
the great fair. But she had nevertheless ac- 
quired experience of life and character, and 
her daughter-in-law’s face and expression had 
chilled her from the first moment when the 
girl had appeared smiling on the threshold of 
the farm. No one observed the effort with 
which the old woman kissed the new-comer 
when her husband helped her down from the 
cart. Nor did any one see the anger which 
for a minute rendered the face of the bride 
cold and hard as steel when the mother ex- 
claimed : 

“ W elcome are the young arms that come to 
share in the household work ! Welcome the 
skillful hands that will spin the flax for our 
linen !” 

The young damsel of the Pays de France 
had no intention of becoming the servant of her 
husband’s parents. 

Laughter and songs were resounding be- 
neath the smoke-dried rafters of the farm, 
when the door was pushed softly open, and a 
brown dog appeared on the threshold. He 
had a rough coat and red eyes, and was not 


220 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


at all a handsome dog, though he had a look 
of great intelligence and gentleness. He ad- 
vanced toward the group of singers with the 
confidence of a child of the house. The mis- 
tress stretched out her hand to caress him. 
Her son, who was leaning over his wife and 
whispering soft words in her ear, suddenly 
turned round. “ Ah ! here is Jeandrin,” he 
exclaimed; how do you do, Jeandrin?” and 
he drew the head of the animal toward his 
young wife, who retreated with affected terror. 
‘‘ I do not like dogs,” said she ; and, above 
all, strange dogs frighten me.” 

But Jeandrin is not strange, he is my dog,” 
insisted her husband. He came to the farm 
long ago, of his own accord, from nobody 
knows where, and we have been friends ever 
since. ‘ Love me, love my dog is it not so, 
Jeandrin ?” 

The young farmer bent over his favorite and 
caressed him, for he had been a little vexed by 
his wife’s behavior. But Jeandrin’s eyes looked 
angry, and for the first time in his life he had 
a vicious expression. Pierre Heurtesant left 
off coaxing his wife, and loosened the dog’s 
collar and called to him, Come, Jeandrin, and 
have some dinner !” and with one sweep of his 


JEANDBm THE GOBLIN. 


221 


tongue the dog swallowed the contents of the 
dish of meat that was still on the table. The 
bride smiled scornfully. 

Is it the custom here for dogs to eat with 
Christians ?” asked she. 

“Jeandrin is almost a Christian,” said her 
husband, smiling ; since he came to us six years 
ago, on a snowy December night, we have not 
lost an ox, and the cows give milk winter as 
well as summer. No one has been ill, and 
prosperity has accompanied me, even to the 
Pays de France, where I met you.” 

Perrine began to laugh. She had been mar- 
ried for a month, and loved her husband as 
much as she could love any one. 

No one present appeared surprised at the 
liberty taken by Jeandrin, or ventured to dis- 
turb him, now that he was satisfied and lying 
stretched at his full length before the fire. 

The young wife wanted to warm her little 
hands, having washed them after serving the 
guests, and particularly the poor ones, in ac- 
cordance with the pious custom at feasts in 
Brittany, and even Normandy. Her husband, 
who followed her everywhere, passed his hands 
gently over Jeandrin’s back, who, half-awak- 
ened, made a little room beside the fire for 


222 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


Perrine ; but when she seemed to encroach on 
his domain, the dog growled. The old woman 
came to the chimney corner. 

“ Jeandrin is tired,” said she, and he must ^ 
be allowed to sleep.” 

Perrine colored deeply. She made no an- 
swer, but from that day she entertained a strong 
aversion to the animal that had already drawn 
upon her the disapprobation of both her mother- 
in-law and of her husband. 

By and by I will find out how to get rid 
of that detestable creature,” thought she, be- 
fore she went to sleep. But the wind whis- 
tling between the open beams and the rats 
that ran about the fioor of her room troubled 
her so much that she forgot Jeandrin for a 
time. She had always lived in towns, and 
the mysterious night noises of the country 
filled her with terror. In the morning, she 
woke wearied with the disturbed night she 
had passed, and came down embarrassed at 
finding herself the last at the family meal. 
The barking of a dog was heard in the dis- 
tance. 

“Jeandrin has brought the cows from the 
upper meadows, and is taking them to the lower 
field,” said the farmer’s wife to her husband, 


JEANDRIN THE GOBLIN. 


223 


as if slie had been speaking of a faithful and 
intelligent servant. 

The dog again made his appearance panting, 
with his tongue hanging out, and, as he had 
done the day before, he looked on the table 
for his meal. The farmer handed him his 
plate. 

Perrine drew back her chair and put up 
both her hands, as if to protect herself from the 
dog. Her father-in-law laughed as he said, in 
the tone of authority of a man accustomed to 
be obeyed, You must get used to Jeandrin.” 

The young wife, who was an only daughter 
and accustomed to be petted, gave no answer 
but an expressive pout ; and when, with her 
sleeves tucked up, she helped to wash the 
breakfast-things, she scornfully pushed away 
the plate that Jeandrin had used. 

am not going to wash the dog’s plate,” 
muttered she between her teeth 

The mother saw it all, but neither spoke nor 
laughed, as her husband had done. She an 
gured no good for her son’s happiness, from the 
tone and manner of the bride. 

- The wedding festivities were over, and every- 
body had to return to work. Perrine was 
intelligent and clever. Whenever she put her 


224 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


hand to household affairs they prospered 
Her husband was often absent. He had re- 
turned to the Pays de France in charge of a 
troop of oxen, and his wife remained at the 
farm. When he came home after his long 
journey he found his mother ill and out of 
spirits ; but Perrine was laughing and singing. 
She went to and fro in the house, ordering the 
servants in a hard, dry voice, and with much 
more imperiousness of tone than they had been 
accustomed to from the old mistress. They 
obeyed, however, and the farmer was delighted 
with his daughter-in-law and her good manage- 
ment. 

“ You have brought us a fairy from that dis- 
tant region,” said he to his son. “ She does as 
she likes, and no one dares to oppose her ; even 
old Placide himself, who always growls, is 
pleased when she speaks to him.” 

‘‘And Jeandrin?” asked the young man, 
smiling, and happy to hear the praises of his 
wife. The old man’s brow grew clouded. 

“ Jeandrin is not good,” answered he, in a 
low voice. 

“ Has he been at his tricks ?” asked Pierre. 
“ Has he tied the cows by the tail ?” 

‘Hf it was only that!” And the old man 


JEANDRIN THE OOBLIN. 


225 


smiled, in spite of himself, at the recollection of 
the astonishment of his daughter-in-law when 
she had gone early in the morning to the cow- 
house to milk the cows, and had found the 
best milch-cows lowing piteously, and tied by 
their tails to their racks. “ He had milked 
them all in the night,” continued the old man, 

and thrown the milk in the gutter. He had 
mixed water with the cheese-curdle stuff,* and 
your mother for once lost patience when she 
found all her fowls shut up far away from their 
chickens.” 

Pierre shook his head gravely 
He must have been very wicked,” said he ; 
and, without adding more, he determined to 
find out the cause of Jeandrin’s misconduct. 
Such heaps of offenses to be laid upon one poor 
dog ! 

Perrine had appeared greatly delighted by 
the return of her husband. But when she saw 
him occupied about the health of his mother, 
and ready to caress the detested dog, and at- 
tentively watching his movements, a spirit of 
restlessness took possession of her. She went 
to and fro without any object, and persisted in 

* The country name for the liquor used to curdle the 
milk. 


226 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


following her father-in-law everywhere — even 
when Pierre wanted her to stay in the house or 
go with him to the fields. 

The mistress shook her head sadly, but she 
was ill and had no spirit for a contest. Her 
husband now saw everything with Perrine’s 
eyes, and the poor mother perceived with a 
great pang that when this danasel of the Pays 
de France set her foot on the threshold, she 
had destroyed the peace as well as the good- 
fortune of the house. She would sometimes 
take Pierre’s head between her hands, as she 
used to do when he was little, and kiss him in 
silence. The young man was also sorrowful. 
All the remedies of the old wives of the parish 
did not succeed in restoring his mother to 
health ; and, without being exactly aware of 
it, he felt that his dreams of happiness were 
vanishing away. 

Meanwhile he had in vain watched his wife ; 
he could discover no trace of animosity toward 
Jeandrin. The dog continued sullen when in 
the house (out-of-doors he always recovered 
his gayety), yet he had his usual place by 
the fireside. Perrine no longer shrugged her 
shoulders when the head of the animal appeared 
on the table and he possessed himself with- 


JEANDRIN THE GOBLIN. 


227 


out ceremony of the best piece on the dish. 
And it was apparently Jeandrin who was 
always in the wrong, for he growled and showed 
his teeth whenever the young wife passed near 
him. 

The dog dislikes you very much,” said 
Pierre ; “ what have you done to him ?” 

Perrine smiled disdainfully, and only an- 
swered, “ He is jealous. He thinks you like 
me better than him.” 

But this plausible explanation was not enough 
for the young man, who, like his mother and 
all the people about the farm, was convinced 
that a good spirit lived within the ill-favored 
form of the faithful, clever old dog. 

The mistress grew weaker and weaker every 
day. If Pierre had consulted his wife on the 
cause of her illness and melancholy she would 
perhaps have attributed them also to jealousy. 
Alas ! there was no need to tell the son that 
the young wife whom he had brought from so 
far was not kind to the old mother. He saw 
it plain enough. But Norman people are silent 
and reserved ; and he did not reproach his wife, 
but redoubled his attentions to his mother, 
trying to be both daughter and son to her in 
one* 


LITTLE MISS PEOGT. 


228 

The farmer could not, or would not, see that 
his wife was dying. It was the time of the 
great fair, and he had to sell and buy oxen. 
He saddled his pony, and set out with two 
men to drive them to the market. Jeandrin 
was generally his companion on his distant ex- 
peditions ; but this time when, at the last min- 
ute, the dog was called, he answered neither to 
whistle nor voice, and they were obliged to set 
out without him. The men remarked to eaxh 
other, We are going to have some mischance, 
and that is why Jeandrin will not come,” 

The farmer had been gone twelve days, and 
his wife had now taken completely to her bed. 
For the first time since the birth of her son — 
the last of her children, and the only one that 
remained to her — she ceased to be the first to 
rise, the most active to work, the readiest to 
bear the burdens of the day. Pierre was be- 
side her. He had summoned the priest, and 
the dying woman had received the communion. 
She had fallen back exhausted on her pillows, 
whispering to her son the solemn words of her 
last adieu. Be kind to your father,” said she. 

He will grieve deeply when he returns and 
does not find me here. Also, be good to Jean- 
drin ; he is not happy at present.” And then 


JEANDRIN THE QOBLIN. 


lowering her voice again, as if she feared even 
now to wound her son : “ Look after your wife, 
and may God help you.” 

Pierre understood, but did not reply. He 
felt in his heart a cold fear that Perrine would 
not console him for the loss of his mother, as 
Rebecca consoled Isaac in the plains of Canaan 
for the loss of Sarah. 

Perrine was now mistress and queen in the 
kitchen, the dairy, the cow-house, the poultry- 
yard. Her mother-in-law had never opposed 
her, never countermanded one of her orders ; 
but the s'.veet, sad face of the old mistress, her 
silent activity, and her established authority 
had been displeasing to the young wife. The 
servants obeyed Perrine without a reply, but 
it was always to their old mistress that they 
had gone for orders. Now she was no longer 
among them, and the dawn of a new day had 
begun. 

Pierre was absorbed in his grief ; twice he 
had gone down to the kitchen for some cor- 
dial needed for the invalid. He had never 
asked Perrine to come into the sick-room, and 
she had not offered her services, but employed 
herself in inaugurating her reign in the 
house. 


230 


LITTLE MISS PE0G7. 


It was an autumn evening, and the serving 
men were coming in one after the other, forced 
by the young mistress to rub their feet on the 
mat at the door before crossing the threshold, 
and grumbling among themselves at the whims 
of this town girl, so different from their coun- 
try ways. Jeandrin slipped in with them, and 
they drew back to let him pass. The dog had 
been running all day, and his rough coat was 
covered with mud. His large paws left their 
traces on the newly washed floor of the kitchen ; 
but Jeandrin, no way disturbed by that, made 
straight for the fireside. The soup was cooking 
slowly in the large kettle over a clear fire, and 
Pierre’s supper was waiting for him under a 
plate on the hearth. 

Perrine was a good housekeeper, and attended 
to her husband’s needs. Jeandrin pushed over 
the plate with his paw, and the delicate morsel 
reserved for the master was swallowed by the 
dog before the young woman had time to in- 
terfere. It was too much. Perrine seized the 
tongs that had fallen by chance on the hearth, 
and pressed Jeandrin’s nose between the two 
red-hot irons. “ I will punish you, you wicked 
dog !” cried she. 

Jeandrin freed himself in a moment. The 


JEANDRIN THE GOBLIN. 


m 


creature seemed suddenly to become larger; 
be raised bis bead as if be bad not felt tbe 
burn, and walked backward toward tbe door, 
bis look fixed on tbe enemy. Tbe men, pet- 
rified by superstitious fear, remained in tbeir 
places without moving. Jeandrin pushed open 
tbe half-closed door, and bis gleaming eyes 
shot a last look of anger at Perrine. As be 
crossed tbe threshold, be uttered a long bowl. 
Then tbe heavy door closed on him, and at tbe 
same moment Pierre rushed into tbe room, ex- 
claiming, My mother is dead !” 

When tbe laborers went out at daybreak 
tbe next morning, they were surprised to see 
tbe mark of a horse’s hoof deeply impressed 
on tbe door-stone. We have always declared 
that Jeandrin was not a dog like other dogs,” 
said they as they went to tbeir work. He 
must have been a goblin — a good goblin — who 
came to the farm for tbe love of the dear old 
mistress who is gone. We shall never see 
either of them more.” 

They never did. Neither then nor at any 
other time was tbe quaint figure of kind Jean- 
drin seen lying at tbe hearth or trotting about 
tbe farm.' His body was never found, and, by 
tbe shape of tbe horse’s hoof left on tbe road, 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


m 

they conjectured that the goblin, as goblins 
do, had suddenly changed his shape before he 
went away, to bring to some other household 
the prosperity which was no longer in this 
one. For all the good luck of the farm de- 
parted with Jeandrin. When the farmer re- 
turned, he had not sold his oxen. For the 
first time in his life his pony had stumbled, 
fallen, and broken its knees. And when he 
entered and heard his wife was dead, he too 
fell down broken-hearted. Gentleness and 
harmony ceased with the old mother’s life. 
Pierre’s journeys from home became more and 
more frequent. He fled from Perrine’s hard, 
unloving rule. By way of consolation, the 
farmer drank all the brandy he could get from 
his cider. Every time he crossed the door- 
stone he trembled at sight of the mysterious 
hoof-prints, which no efforts succeeded in 
removing from the road. 

“ Jeandrin and good-fortune came with the 
old wife and goodness,” said he, and now both 
have gone away together. I’ll go too — the 
sooner the better.” So one day he laid him 
down and died. 


THE WONDERFUL TURKEY, 


233 


THE WONDERFUL TURKEY. 


It was almost the end of the Carnival. All 
the good housewives in Caiimont had laid in a 
good store of flour and eggs for pancakes, and 
the children were going about the streets sing- 
ing the accustomed rh3rme : 

Shrove-Tuesday, Shrove-Tuesday, 

Come home, come home; 

We are going to make pancakes, 

And you shall have some.^^ 

“It was on this day that Mother Sandret 
used to sell so dear the eggs that she had kept 
all winter,” said a woman who was standing at 
the door of her cottage. “ It was an unknown 
man who bought — a fairy,” she said. “ I wish 
he would come to me — I wish something would 
happen to us to-night.” 

“ Hush !” said a little girl, pulling her by 
the skirt, with her pretty face full of terror. 
“ Hush, mother, or the fairies will hear. Didn’t 


234 


LITTLE MISS PEOG F. 


Mother Sandret one night see a man all in 
white, who took her eggs and threw them into 
the dust-basket, and yet in the morning not a 
single one was broken 

I have heard your grandmother say so,” 
answered Eosalie Lys, lowering her voice. 

But it is getting dark ; perhaps we had better 
not talk of these things. Your father will 
soon be coming home from work ; the poor man 
will be very tired, and sad, too — for he knows 
that he will find nothing ready at home for 
Shrove-Tuesday. Oh, I wish he might meet a 
fairy, after all.” 

Ah, mother, there will be pancakes !” cried 
the little girl. The hens have laid on pur- 
pose.” 

And they have done v^ell,” muttered the 
mother, ^‘for there is nothing either in the 
salting-tub or the cupboard.” 

Never mind ; the hens have laid,” repeated 
the child. It was late ; the tired-out workmen 
were returning from their labors ; the day had 
ended ; the children had gone to bed early, in 
order to hasten the coming of this Shrove- 
Tuesday, for which they had waited so long. 
Marin Lys stood chatting with his fellow work- 
man, Pierre Doucet, who had been digging 
with him all day in the trench. 


THE WONDERFUL TURKEY. 235 

“ Are you going to work to-morrow ?” asked 
Marin. 

“No, no,” said Pierre; “ Skrove-Tuesday 
comes only once a year, and I mean to enjoy 
myself a little at tke Broom-Bough.^' My 
wife and the children may do as well as they 
can at home.” 

“I must finish the trench all alone, then,” 
fighed Marin. “ My wife and children cannot 
do without bread, and we have got on so badly 
this last year that we are never a day ahead.” 

“ Women can make pancakes with Avater,” 
r-ineered Pierre, and then the two men parted. 

Marin walked on without looking round 
him. His feet, accustomed to the road, followed 
its windings without his needing to trouble 
himself to avoid the cart-ruts, or pools of water, 
or loose stones ; a little new moon cast on his 
steps a faint light ; but the tired workman 
looked forward impatiently to the moment 
when he should first catch sight of the feeble 
glimmer of the candle burning in his cottage. 

On emerging from a path that was bordered 
by great oaks and thick under-wood, he sud- 


* A common public-house sign in some parts of Xor- 
mandy. 


236 


LITTLE MISS PEQQY. 


denly stopped at a little open glade formed by 
the meeting of four roads. Wonderful sight ! 
A bright light dazzled his eyes. He saw upon 
the ground a great white cloth. At each of its 
four corners a torch was burning ; in the mid- 
dle, sitting like a tailor, with his legs crossed, 
was a man, clothed in a curious dress, counting 
gold from a heap that lay before him. An 
enormous heap it was. The man plunged and 
replunged his hands into it, causing a metallic 
ring that echoed in the peasant’s unaccustomed 
ears like strange music. 

Marin did not dare to stir. It was in vain 
that he tried to move his feet ; in order to get 
home, he must cross the glade, but the sight 
of the gold fascinated him. The mysterious 
stranger had never raised his eyes, but pres- 
ently, as he made a pile of the sparkling golden 
pieces, he muttered these words in a hollow 
whisper : Take some, but leave some.” 

Marin had not dreamed at first of getting 
possession of any of the treasure for himself; 
but now the thought of his wife and children, 
and of the joy that he should cause by bring- 
ing home ever so small a portion of this pile 
of gold, was too much for him. He stretched 
out his hand and took one piece — only one ; 


THE WONDERFUL TURKEY, 


237 


but it was more money than he had ever pos- 
sessed in his life. Then, ill at ease, not know- 
ing whether he had done right or wrong, he 
bounded over the white cloth, and took to his 
heels without ever looking behind him. 

He ran in the direction of his own cottage, 
but after a little his step began to get slower ; 
he grew more and more uneasy, and at last he 
stopped altogether. “ It is devil’s money,” he 
said, looking at the piece of gold in his hand, 
and expecting to see it changed into a dry leaf. 
But no ; the gold still sparkled before his eyes, 
and it bore the king’s stamp. At any rate, I 
have not earned this money, and I don’t know 
where it has come from,” the honest peasant 
went on. “ Perhaps it may bring trouble on 
my wife and children !” Poor Marin sighed 
bitterly. He thought of the misfortunes that 
overwhelmed him — his wife ill, his cow dead, 
his children sickly ; he made the sign of the 
cross. “ All that is God’s will,” he said ; but 
this money burns my fingers.” And all at 
once, turning round as if he was afraid of his 
resolution giving way, he rapidly retraced his 
steps, and soon came once more to the little 
glade. The stranger was still there, counting 
his treasure. Marin came forward without 


238 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


hesitation, and placed his piece of gold beside 
the rest. The man lifted up his eyes no more 
than he had done before, but only said in the 
same sepulchral voice, “ Thou hast done Avisely. 
Wealth ill-acquired profits nobody.” And then 
Marin never stood still again till he reached 
the threshold of his own house. 

Pierre, meanwhile, had been going his way ; 
he had not hurried himself, although he was 
tired. His wife was a scold, his children al- 
ways dirty and frightened ; for his selfishness 
and his frequent visits to the public-house had 
borne their natural fruits. Pierre and Sera- 
phine were as poor as Marin and Rosalie, but 
they did not, like Marin and Rosalie, love one 
another, nor trust, as they did, in the God 
who helps the poor and unfortunate. 

The moon was hidden by clouds, and the 
muddy road was so impassable that Pierre 
thought he would climb over the fence that 
separated it from the fields. Everything was 
quite quiet; the few houses scattered amid 
the meadows were far off. As Pierre put his 
foot on one of the wooden bars of the fence, he 
heard in the hedge close to him the convulsive 
movements of some living creature. 

Who is there ?” he cried in a low voice, 
rather husky with fear. 


THE WONDERFUL TURKhJY, 


239 


There came no answer, except a sound as of 
the wings of a wounded animal beating against 
some obstacle ; and then Pierre, stretching out 
his hand, caught hold of the feathers of a large 
bird which had got imprisoned amid the 
branches of a hazel tree. 

Oh, it’s a turkey !” cried he. “ How has it 
got here, so far from home ? It is my good 
luck that sends it in my way for Shrove-Tues- 
day.” And, without a moment’s hesitation, 
he seized the bird, and stuffed it into the bag 
which he carried on his shoulder. Suppose 
I take it to Mother Celestine ?” he said to him- 
self as he walked on. She would make it 
into a feast for me all by myself.” But the 
thought that the landlady at the public-house 
might perhaps recognize the turkey, which no 
doubt belonged to some of the neighbors, made 
him rather afraid of indulging in this selfish 
plan. “ My wife and the children will have to 
content themselves with the skin and bones,” 
he said presently to himself as he went on to- 
ward the poor dilapidated cottage that shel- 
tered Seraphine and his little ones. 

As the workman came into his hut, the 
screams of the children, who were disputing 
wdth one another, ceased suddenly, for they 


240 


LITTLE MISS PEOGY. 


were afraid of their father’s anger. The young- 
er ones crouched in the chimney-corner; the 
elder threw themselves down upon the hea^^ 
of dried leaves which served for their bed, and 
pretended to be asleep. Seraphine, with her 
dress all in rags, her eyes red, and her face 
still bruised from a blow that her husband had 
given her the day before, flung a handful of 
brushwood upon the Are, and as the flame 
sprang up from it through the smoke, she saw 
the full bag which Pierre had let down upon 
the ground. 

The woman laid her hand upon it with an 
eager look. ‘‘You have brought us some 
bread ?” she said joyfully. 

“ Better than that,” cried Pierre, laughing. 
“ I have found a turkey, which you must cook 
•for my Shrove-Tuesday’s dinner.” 

“ Stolen !” all at once cried a clear voice. 

The husband and wife stared at one another. 
Pierre thought he had not heard aright ; Ser- 
aphine had turned white. 

“ Where did you find the turkey ?” she 
asked. 

“ In a hedge,” said Pierre, “ where there was 
neither man nor house.” 

“ And where you will return and take me 


THE WONDERFUL TURKEY. 


241 


back again,” interrupted tke voice, skrill and 
bird-like, but quite distinct. 

Serapbine fell upon her knees beside the bag : 
it was the turkey that had spoken ! Pierre 
remained motionless, confounded and terrified, 
with the perspiration standing in drops upon 
his forehead. 

Take me upon your shoulder,” said the 
voice again. 

Tired as he was, the terrified workman 
obeyed. Without stopping to sit down, or eat 
a morsel of bread or drink a glass of cider, he 
threw the bag upon his shoulder, and went 
along the road that he had already traversed 
an hour before. 

The bag was light at first, but at each step 
he V took Pierre felt the burden grow heavier. 
“ I can go on no longer,” he said presently to 
himself ; I am too tired.” And then he broke 
into an exclamation of anger. Cursed tur- 
key !” cried he. 

The sack grew heavier and heavier upon 
his shoulders. At the beginning of his walk 
the weight of it had scarcely been ten pounds, 
but before he had carried it for half an hour 
it seemed to be a hundred-weight, and with 
every step it grew heavier and heavier. When 


242 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


at length lie stood still to take breath, the voice, 
which froze the blood in his veins, instantly 
exclaimed, Go on !” and Pierre went on his 
way again, without daring even to murmur, 
for each complaint and each oath he uttered 
increased the burden that was weighing him 
ddwn. 

Pierre’s steps insensibly grew slower ; it was 
with difficulty, and only by the greatest effort, 
that he continued to go forward at all. The 
unhappy man thought no more now of the 
Broom-Bough, of Shrove-Tuesday, or of the 
gay companions with whom he had hoped to 
spend the night while his wife and children 
starved at home ; he only thought of his fa- 
tigue, of his terror, of the bad luck (this was 
the name he gave to his theft) that had put 
the turkey in his way. He felt his knees tot- 
tering ; he panted for breath ; he was bathed 
in perspiration; his trembling hands leaned 
for support against the trees as he passed. At 
last he fell, overwhelmed by his burden ; he 
had fainted on the road, and in the dark night 
he lay dying of fatigue and fear. 

It was cold ; the icy wind whistled through 
the bare branches, and the unhappy man would 
have expired without help if Marin had not 


THE WONDERETIL TURKEY. ^43 

cLanced to pass tliat way. Finding his com- 
rade lying on the ground, he lifted him upon 
his shoulders, and carried him as far as the 
first cottage, charity giving to one brave peas- 
ant that strength w^hich the other had lost 
through remorse and fear. When the wretched 
man came to his senses, he opened his eyes 
wildly. 

The turkey !” murmured he. 

Nobody understood what he meant, and he 
confessed nothing. Perhaps he tried himself 
to believe that it had all been a dream, as 
wonderful dreams do happen sometimes on the 
eve of Shrove-Tuesday. But when he went 
home he stormed at his family, and insisted 
that they too should hold their tongues. 

Pierre never became either a good liTasband 
or a good father. His family turned out ill, 
and soon left him. But the peasant had 
learned at least one wholesome lesson : however 
great might be his distress, however much he 
might be tempted by the Broom-Bough, he 
never again laid a finger on the property of 
other people. If he ever longed to do so, he 
always heard the formidable words ringing in 
his ears — Turkey !” Stolen !” “ Go on! go 

on !” 


244 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


THE NIGHT WASHERWOMEN. 

I TELL you, Eire, young girls ought not to 
go • to feasts,” said a woman whose voice and 
features were sharpened by severe pain. She 
lay in her bed, with its large-flowered Indian 
curtains drawn round her, suffering from an 
illness that seemed likely tc carry her to her 
grave. Her daughter, who was sewing near 
the window, was large, fair, and young, with 
open blue eyes and white teeth. She answered 
quite naturally to the name of Eire (Laughter), 
by which she was known everywhere, instead 
of by her baptismal name of Zephirine. She 
was almost always laughing; but just now a 
dark cloud overshadowed her brow. She was 
out of humor, and the shrug of her shoulders 
betrayed her extreme dissatisfaction with some- 
thing or other. 

“ The feast of La St. Loup at Crevecoeur is 
the best for ten miles round. I do not see why 
I should not go like other people. If young 


TEE NIGHT WASHERWOMEN. 245 

girls do not go to feasts, there will soon be no 
feasts at all.” 

The mother was rather deaf, and could not 
hear her daughter’s words, but she had no dif- 
ficulty in interpreting her gestures. 

“You cannot go to the St. Loup,” said she, 
“ because I am ill, and a girl does not go to a 
feast without her mother.” 

This reflection rather shook Eire’s confidence ; 
she hesitated, but soon answered : 

“ If my godfather will take me, may I not 

go?” 

The invalid sighed ; she was tired, and 
wanted to go to sleep. She had brought up her 
daughter badly, and knew very well that if 
Eire was disappointed she would bang the 
doors, rattle the crockery, let her scissors fall, 
and not permit her poor mother a minute’s 
rest. 

“If your godfather would take charge of 
such a madcap,” sighed she. 

“ He would like nothing better and Eire 
started off her chair with such eagerness that 
she upset it, and kissed her mother in high 
good-humor, by way of gratitude. “ He always 
says that the feasts are not so pretty as they 
were when he was young, but he never misses 


246 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


one, notwithstanding. I will go to the farm at 
supper-time this evening, and ask him to take 
me on his pony,” said the happy girl. And, 
laughing and talking, she jumped about the 
room, making the windows vibrate with every 
step, knocking her feet on the rough tile floor- 
ing, and never perceiving that her mother 
turned pale and put her hand on her heart with 
an expression of pain. And then Eire, glad to 
have gained her victory, and delighted with the 
prospect of the promised pleasure, went away 
to the garden singing merrily. 

The invalid had lost all thought of the pres- 
ent time ; half-insensible from pain, she was 
unconsciously recalling the days when her hus- 
band was living, and she was happy, strong, 
and good-looking, and when her sons were 
not with the army, and her Eire was quite a 
little girl, from whom nobody had required 
more than to be healthy and merry. The poor 
mother sighed bitterly. She did not blame 
her daughter ; on the contrary, if any one made 
the least allusion to Eire’s excessive love 
of pleasure, she would eagerly defend her. 

Youth must pass away,” she would say. 
But she felt sad and lonely when her child 
left her all day long, to go away and amuse 


THE WIGHT WASHER- WOMEN. 


247 


herself. According to the custom of Norman- 
dy mothers, she had devoted herself entirely 
to her children ; but she had not made them 
comprehend that self-denial ought to awaken 
self-denial, and that parents as well as children 
equally owe obedience to a Divine Master. 
Eire went to church on Sunday, but she used 
to think all the time of the feast that would 
follow the mass, of her bonnet-ribbons or her 
shoe-buckles, and never heard the priest’s 
voice. All the young folks would gather 
round Eire ; but the parents would shake their 
heads and say, She is a very pretty girl, but 
she will not make a good woman ; she is too 
giddy.” Many mothers sighed as they spoke 
thus ; for some of their daughters were not 
more steady, and very few as handsome as 
Eire. 

It was the morning of the St. Loup feast, and 
the narrow roads that led to the town of 
Crevecoeur, generally so quiet and lonely, were 
crowded with peasants dressed in their best, 
with their red umbrellas in their hands, care- 
fully picking their steps through the cart-ruts 
and the pools of wmter. Notwithstanding the 
long drought, mud reigned supreme in each 
deep and shady path, wEich often became the 


248 


LITTLE MIBS PEGGY. 


bed of a little stream. The women pressed 
against the big hedges to avoid being splashed 
by the passing horses, carrying, perhaps, a rich 
grazier and his wife, or a cattle dealer and his 
daughter, whose large cap, trimmed with lace 
and ribbons, rose above the broad-brimmed hat 
and embroidered blouse of her companion. 
Everybody was going to the feast, and nobody 
was happier than Eire. She had milked the 
cow, fed the fowls, prepared her mother’s 
soup : everything that she thought her duty to 
do she had done. But no more. Helping her 
mother for love did not enter her mind. 

At every plunge of the animal they rode, she 
threw her arms round the stout waist of her 
godfather, laughing at her own alarm and chat- 
tering incessantly. The old farmer paid no 
more attention to her merry talk than to the 
songs of the birds in the hedges. But Eire 
chattered on just as much as ever. 

<< Were you not frightened last night, god- 
father, when Tranquille came to say that the 
fairy bulls had come into the upper field ?” 

This time the old man turned round his face, 
softened by a smile. 

“ Tranquille paid for the fright he gave me,” 
said he calmly. He made acquaintance with 
the handle of my whip.” 


TEE NIGHT WASHER- WOMEN 


249 


“ But, godfather,” insisted Eire, “ if he really 
saw the bulls ?” 

The fanner laughed aloud as he said. 
There is not a single ear broken in all the 
field. Mine is the finest wheat in the whole 
country — more than eighty bushels an acre, I 
will answer for it.” 

“Tranquille does not drink,” eagerly ex* 
claimed Eire; ‘‘his eyes could not deceive 
him.” 

The farmer looked at the young girl. 

“ You really believe Tranquille ?” said he. 

Eire colored, but did not lower her eyes. 

“ He has told me more than ten times over 
that he saw the bulls,” replied she, in a low 
voice. 

“ Where have you seen him, to give him the 
opportunity of telling you this fact so many 
times ?” asked her godfather. 

“Just now, after mass,” answered Eire, a lit- 
tle confused. 

“ So he stopped under the yew tree in the 
churchyard to repeat his nonsense to you, in- 
stead of going to church ?” inquired the 
farmer. 

Eire gave a nod of assent. 

Her godfather looked thoughtfully as he 


250 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


said slowly, I do not regret having struck 
him — no. It will teach him to think before he 
speaks. But I do not say he has not seen 
the bulls. They are fairy bulls. My late 
father also saw them once in the same place. 
Only, if Tranquille had had as much sense as 
he, he would have thrown his stick after the 
last beast, and all the band would have been 
off as fast as possible, without so much as a 
ear of corn bending its head. That was my 
late father’s way ; no noise, no fuss did he 
make.” 

While the old man meditated thus upon the 
merits of his father, who had been in his grave 
more than thirty years, Eire repeated, in a low 
tone, If Tranquille saw the bulls, they must 
have been there for a certainty.” 

They were approaching Crevecoeur, and 
every minute the crowd grew thicker. The 
young men sang louder; the girls, nearly all 
accompanied by their mothers, talked more 
merrily ; the sound of violins was already 
heard. The cries of the boys playing, the 
sound of the balls hitting against one another, 
and the rattle of the porcelain lotteries grew 
more and more distinct. 

Eire smiled in delighted anticipation of the 
pleasure that awaited her. 


THE EIGHT WASHER-WOMEE. 


251 


“ You will not go home till night, will you, 
godfather ?” said the girl coaxingly. 

The old farmer smiled. 

That will depend on the quality of the 
brandy that the good Ernault will have to give 
us,” muttered he. 

Eire jumped for joy on the pony’s back. 

^‘The amiable Ernault’s brandy is always 
good,” said she, “ and it pays no duty.” 

Her godfather smiled. He had sold many 
barrels of brandy to the publican, without the 
exciseman touching a penny. At night, when 
it was quite dark, occasionally more than one 
horse might have been seen making its way 
along the deep road, and under the bundles of 
hay attached to both sides of the saddle might 
have been found those cans of brandy and of 
cider which were as dear and as fatal to the 
Normans of a hundred years ago as to their 
descendants of the present day. 

The evening had icome. Eire had danced 
all day, and had drawn in the lotteries con- 
ducted by the best young men in the town. 
She had eaten cake and green plums, and 
dipped her lips in a little glass of brandy. 
But her enjoyment had not been unmixed; 
for the daughters of th». cattle dealer wore 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY. 


m 

finer lace in their bonnets than hers. Pulche- 
rie Lebourg, the niece of the great grazier of 
St. Marie, exhibited over her purple silk bodice 
a gold chain and cross, which glittered in Eire’s 
dazzled eyes long after the young orphan was 
on her way to the distant farm where she kept 
house for her uncle. 

Eire was tired, and not gay as she usually 
was ; and the smart repartee died on her lips. 
She began to think of her mother whom she 
had left so long alone, and a passionate desire 
to go home suddenly seized her. Eire always 
yielded to her first impulse, whether good or 
bad. This time a good impulse impelled her 
toward her mother : the young girl was eager 
to go. She called Tranquille, who was hover- 
ing about her, though kept from coming near 
by the presence of people richer and better 
dressed than himself. 

Will you go and see where my godfather 
is drinking, and if he is ready to have his pony 
saddled ?” she said to him. 

When Tranquille returned, Eire had not 
gone back to dance ; she was sitting on a stone, 
leaning her head on her hand. 

^^The master says that the good man’s 
brandy is excellent, and that you may amuse 


THE SIGHT WASHES WOMEN. 


253 


yourself as long as you like. He is just now 
asleep, and will not waken very soon,” said 
Tranquille. 

The young serving-man did not say that ke 
had tried to persuade the farmer to take Eire 
home, and that he had been rewarded by a 
volley of oaths. 

Eire did not reply ; she had bent her head 
down, and her tears flowed between her An- 
gers 

It was dark at that time, and Tranquille did 
not perceive that she was crying, till a little 
sob betrayed her grief. 

“What is the matter?” cried he eagerly. 
“ Are you hurt ? Has any one done you any 
harm ?” 

Eire shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Leave me alone, Tranquille,” said she 
crossly. “As if one did not cry sometimes 
without knowing why. Tell my godfather I 
am going home on foot by the cross-road dh 
rectly.” 

Tranquille started. 

“ Alone — at night !” said he. “ That must 
not be ; I will go with you if you will allow 
me.” 

“ That everybody may talk about it to* 


254 


LITTLE MISS PEQQY. 


morrow !” scornfully retorted tlie girl. Are 
you afraid that I may meet the fairy bulls in 
the upper field ?” 

Tranquille felt himself color. 

As I hope to go to heaven, there were more 
than a hundred in the corn running about like 
so many demons,” said he, twisting round his 
hand the leather thong of his stick. If I had 
had this I could have chased them away, and 

the master ” Tranquille again colored ; he 

had not forgiven the old farmer for the beating 
he had given him. 

When he looked up again Eire was no longer 
sitting on the stone. She had disappeared, and 
was walking in the dark, with her skirts tucked 
up and her umbrella in her hand, along the 
well-knowD road. 

If my godfather is angry,” thought she, so 
much the* worse for him; why did he not take 
me home on his pony ?” 

Eire advanced fearlessly ; she only half -be- 
lieved the alarming stories she had been accus- 
tomed to hear ever since her childhood, and 
was not disturbed by fear of either goblin or 
fairy, or even of mysterious bulls. She did 
not listen to the night wind whistling in the 
branches of the trees, and paid no attention to 


THE NIGHT WASHER-WOMEN. 


255 


the cries of the owls or the nibbling of the 
rabbits squatting in the hedges or scampering 
across the path. Once, however, she uttered a 
little scream when the moon, emerging from a 
cloud, showed her a black-and-yellow lizard 
gliding softly under the leaves of a trailing 
brier. The girl turned pale, but she quickly 
recovered herself when she remembered that 
the death foretold by a meeting with a lizard 
was only inevitable when the encounter took 
place between noon and midnight ; and Eire 
had lingered so long at the feast that the old 
clock had struck twelve before she had started 
on her road home. 

She was drawing near the upper field, the 
boundary of her godfather’s land. The long, 
golden lines of the corn began to wave before 
her eyes, and she smiled at the idea of a troop 
of bulls turning into this rich crop. Suddenly 
she came in sight of the cluster of willows 
which stood out against the dark background 
of an old yew hedge, which was cut and trained 
carefully every year by the farmer’s own 
hands, in memory of his grandfather, who was 
said to have planted it mere than a hundred 
years before. 

Here I am at the fort,” said Eire to herself ; 


256 


LITTLE MISS PEGOT, 


and once in the avenue, it will be only a little 
quarter of an hour before I am at home. Let us 
hope Mademoiselle de Plunfort” (a celebrated 
ghost of the neighborhood) will not walk to- 
night.” 

Just as she was thinking thus, and quicken- 
ing her steps to enter the long avenue of lin- 
den trees — the last remnant of those days in 
which the farm close by had been a seigniorial 
manor — she distinctly heard the hard and reg- 
ular sound of a washer-woman’s beetle. 

Lire turned pale, and for an instant her 
limbs trembled under her ; then she advanced 
boldly, her eyes involuntarily fixed on the 
fort. 

White figures appeared bending in the water, 
beetle now answered to beetle, and a woman of 
a large size moved up and down on the edge of 
the moat as if directing her servants. 

Eire walked with a convulsive step, and 
pressed her hands one against the other. “ It 
is Mademoiselle de Plunfort and the night 
washer- women !” murmured she. 

The beetles of the washers had stopped ; 
they had raised themselves up now, and were 
gliding noiselessly toward the young girl. 
The tallest woman, Mademoiselle de Plunfort, 


THE NIGHT WASHEH WOMEN 


257 


who had sacrificed everything to her love of 
pleasure — the peace of her mother and the 
love of her betrothed — and therefore was con- 
demned to be a wandering ghost, washing for- 
ever the linen that she had neglected in life 
— appeared gliding along in spectral fashion, 
and looking just according to the stories cur- 
rent about her for so many years. She seized 
Hire’s icy hand and drew her into her funereal 
dance, while the other washer- women formed a 
ring round them both. Eire, petrified by fear, 
could not take a single step, but the phantom 
seemed to bear her along without any effort 
on her own part. She knew not where she 
was going — perhaps down, down into the bot- 
tomless pit — when all at once a friendly voice 
rang through the darkness. 

Eire ! Eire !” cried Tranquille. Then rais- 
ing his stick in the direction of the shadows, 
he called aloud, in a strangely firm tone : 

In the name of the Holy Trinity let my 
betrothed pass !” 

The phantoms drew back, grew fainter, and 
then vanished in the darkness. Tranquille 
still advanced, repeating the same words. 
Eire felt her hand loosed from the ghostly 
grasp. Through all her terror and through 


258 


LITTLE MISS PEGGY, 


the joy of her deliverance, she had been con- 
scious of a new happiness at Tranquille’s bold 
words, “ Let my betrothed pass.” He had never 
yet asked her to marry him ; but he loved her, 
she knew ; she loved him also. 

An hour later Eire went home to her mother, 
who wept with fear and joy at the wonderful 
story she told. The two young people had 
taken a long time to come up the lime avenue ; 
but during that walk they had settled the fate 
of their lives. Eire knelt at the foot of her 
mother’s bed and allowed Tranquille to explain 
everything. As he ended, he bent toward her 
and said, in a low tone : 

“ If I had not followed you. Mademoiselle de 
Plunfort and her washer-women would have 
made you dance while they were wringing their 
linen — dance until you were dead.” 

Eire cast a happy and malicious look on her 
affianced. 

‘ I did not see any linen,” she said, laugh- 
ing. 

‘‘ But you were not sorry to see me,” insisted 
Tranquille. 

Eire threw herself into her mother’s arms. 

When, two months after, Tranquille took 
his bride to the village church, her godfather 


THE NIGHT WA8HEB-W0MEN. 


259 


stopped her as they were coming from the 
mass. 

I have sent a fine cow to your house ; I owe 
you something for the fright you had that night 
of St. Loup’s feast.” 

Lire laughed. 

How very fortunate it was that the good 
man’s brandy was so excellent. But for that I 
should perhaps not have known, even yet, that 
I loved Tranquille.” 

“ And how did you know that he loved you ?” 
asked the old farmer. 

Hire looked at her husband and smiled. 

One always doubts of some things,” an- 
swered she. 

But the lovers kept to themselves the story 
of the night washer- women. 

The foolish young girl had become a sensible 
woman. She was as happy now to work as 
she had formerly been to go to feasts. 

Her mother did not recover her health, but 
she was no longer sad and lonely. She was 
rarely left alone now, except at the end of the 
day, when Tranquille returned from his work. 
Then he almost always found his wife waiting 
for him by the lime avenue. 

Are you looking if the night washer-women 


260 


LITTLE MISS PEOOT. 


have left any of their linen behind ?” he would 
ask her, with tender maliciousness. 

“ No,” Eire would reply, with her old laugh. 
^ ■ I have looked for nothing since I found 
you.” 


THE END. 


A, L, Burt^s Catalogue of Books for 
Young People by Popular Writers, 52- 
58 Duane Street, New York 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. By Lewis Carroll. 

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Little Lucy’s Wonderful Globe. By Charlotte M. 

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Count Up the Sunny Days : A Story for Girls and Boys. 

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The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest. By Charlotte M. 

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A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


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Sixteen.’ The book is one which W'ould enrich any girl’s book shelf.’’ — 
St. James’ Gazette. 

The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls. By L. T. 

Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ;51.00. 

“A bright and interesting story. The many admirers of Mrs. L. T. 
Meade in this country will be delighted with the ‘Palace Beautiful’ for 
more reasons than one. It is a charming book for girls.’’ — New York 
Recorder. 

A World of Girls: The Story of a School. By L. T. 

Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

“One of those w'holesome stories which it does one good to read. It 
will aiford pure delight to numerous readers. This book should be on 
every girl’s book shelf.’’ — Boston Home Journal. 

The Lady of the Forest: A Story for Girls. By L. T. 

Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

“This story is written in the author’s well-known, fresh and easy style. 
All girls fond of reading wdll be charmed by this well-written story. It 
is told with the author’s customary grace and spirit.’’ — Boston Times. 

At the Back of the North Wind. By George Mac- 

donald. 12rao, cloth, illustrated, price SI. 00. 

“A very pretty story, with much of the freshness and vigor of Mr. Mac- 
donald’s earlier work. . . . It is a sweet, earnest, and w'holesome fairy 

story, and the quaint native humor is delightful. A most delightful vol- 
ume for young readers.’’ — Philadelphia Times. 

The Water Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. 

By Charles Kingsley. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price Sl-OO. 

“The strength of his work, as well as its peculiar charms, consist in 
his description of the experiences of a youth with life under water in the 
luxuriant w'ealth of which he revels with all the ardor of a poetical na- 
ture.’’ — New York Tribune. 

Our Bessie. By Kosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, illus- 

strated, price $1.00. 

“One of the most entertaining stories of the season, full of vigorous 
action, and strong in character-painting. Elder girls will be charmed with 
it, and adults may read its pages with profit.’’ — The Teachers’ Aid. 

Wild Kitty. A Story of Middleton School. By L. T. 

Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1-00. 

“Kitty is a true heroine — warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all 
good women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of human- 
ity. One of the most attractive gift books of the season.’’ — The Academy. 

A Young Mutineer. A Story for Girls. By L. T. 

Meade. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“One of Mrs. Meade’s charming books for girls, narrated in that simple 
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among 
writers for young people.” — The Spectator. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 


price by the 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Sue and I. By Mrs. O’Reilly. 12mo, cloth, illus- 

trated, price 75 cents. 

“A thoroughly delightful book, full of sound wisdom as well as fun.”— 
Athenaeum. 

The Princess and the Goblin. A Fairy Story. By 

George Macdonald, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“If a child once begins this book, it will get so deeply interested in 
it that when bedtime comes it will altogether forget the moral, and will 
weary its parents with importunities for just a few minutes more to see 
how everything ends,” — Saturday Review. 

Pythia’s Pupils: A Story of a School. By Eva 

Haktner. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“This story of the doings of several bright school girls is sure to interest 
girl readers. Among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one 
of the very best.” — Teachers’ Aid. 

A Story of a Short Life. By J uliana Horatia Ewing. 

12uio, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright 
and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching.” — 
Courier. 

The Sleepy King. A Fairy Tale. By Aubrey Hop- 

wooD AND Seymour Hicks. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Wonderful as the adventures of Bluebell are, it must be admitted that 
they are very naturally worked out and very plausibly presented. 
Altogether this is an excellent story for girls,” — Saturday Review. 

Two Little Waifs. By Mrs. Moles worth. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Mrs. Molesworth’s delightful story of ‘Tw’o Little Waifs’ will charm 
all the small people who find it in their stockings. It relates the ad- 
ventures of two lovable English children lost in Paris, and is just wonder- 
ful enough to pleasantly wring the youthful heart.” — New York Tribune. 

Adventures in Toyland. By Edith King Hall. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“The author is such a bright, cheery writer, that her stories are 
always acceptable to all who are not confirmed cynics, and her record of 
the adventures is as eutertaining and enjoyable as we might expect.” — 
Boston Courier. 

Adventures in Wallypug Land. By G. E. Farrow. 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“These adventures are simply inimitable, and will delight boys and girls 
of mature age, as well as their juniors. No happier combination of 
author and artist than this volume presents could be found to furnish 
healthy amusement to the young folks. The book is an artistic one in 
every sense.” — Toronto Mail. 

Pussbudget’s Folks. A Story for Young Girls. By 

Anna F. Burnham. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“Mrs. Burnham has a rare gift for composing stories for children. With 
a light, yet forcible touch, she paints sweet and artless, yet natural and 
strong, characters.” — Congregationalis^L 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


4 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Mixed Pickles. A Story for Girls. By Mrs. B. M. 

Field. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“It is, in its way, a little classic, of which the real beauty and pathos 
can hardly be appreciated by young people. It is not too much to say 
of the story that it is perfect of its kind.” — Good Literature. 

Miss Mouse and Her Boys. A Story for Girls, By 

Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Mrs. Molesworth’s books are cheery, wholesome, and particularly well 
adapted to refined life. It is safe to add that she is the best English prose 
writer for children. A new volume from Mrs. Molesworth Is always a 
treat.”— The Beacon. 

Gilly Flower. A Story for Girls. By the author of 

“ Miss Toosey’s Mission.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“Jill is a little guardian angel to three lively brothers who tease and 
play with her. . . . Her unconscious goodness brings right thoughts 

and resolves to several persons who come into contact with her. There is 
no goodiness in this tale, but its influence is of the best kind.” — Literary 
World. 

The Chaplet of Pearls ; or, The White and Black Eibau- 

mont. By Charlotte M. Yonge. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 
“Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up 
readers may enjoy it as much as children. It is one of the best books of 
the season.” — Guardian. 

Naughty Miss Bunny: Her Tricks and Troubles. By 

Clara Mclholland. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“The naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit the 
book from their list of juvenile presents.” — Land and Wator. 

Meg’s Friend. By Alice Corkran. 12mo, cloth, 

illustrated, price $1.00. 

“One of Miss Corkran’s charming books for girls, narrated in that sim’jle 
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first among 
writers for young people.” — The Spectator. 

Averil. By Eosa N. Carey. 12nio, cloth, illustrated, 

price $1.00. 

“A charming story for young folks. Averil is a delightful creature — 
piquant, tender, and true — and her varying fortunes are perfectly real- 
istic.” — World. 

Aunt Diana. By Eosa N. Carey. 12nio, cloth, illus- 

trated, price $1.00. 

“An excellent story, the interest being sustained from fir'”t to last. 
This is, both in its intention and the way the story is told, one of the 
best books of its kind which has come before us this year.” — Saturday 
Rev'ew. 

Little Sunshine’s Holiday: A Picture from Life. By 

Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is a pretty narrative of child life, describing the simple doings 
and sayings of a very charming and rather precocious child. This is a 
delightful book for young people.” — Gazette. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Du&ne Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


5 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Esther’s Charge. A Story for Girls. By Ellen Everett 

Green. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

“ . . . This is a story showing in a charming way how one little 

girl’s jealousy and bad temper were conquered; one of the best, most 
suggestive and improving of the Christmas juveniles.” — New York Trib- 
une. 

Fairy Land of Science. By Arabella B. Buckley. 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

‘‘We can highly recommend it; not only for the valuable information 
it gives on the special subjects to which it is dedicated, but also as a 
book teaching natural sciences in an interesting way. A fascinating 
little volume, which will make friends in every household in which there 
are children.” — Daily News. 

Merle’s Crusade. By Eosa N. Carey. 12mo, cloth, 

illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘Among the books for young people we have seen nothing more unique 
than this book. Like all of this author’s stories it will please young read- 
ers by the very attractive and charming style in which it is written.” — 
Journal. 

Birdie: A Tale of Child Life. By H. L. Childe- 

Pkmberton. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

‘‘The story is quaint and simple, but there is a freshness about it 
that makes one hear again the ringing laugh and the cheery shout of chil- 
dren at play which charmed his earlier years.” — New York Express. 

The Days of Bruce: A Story from Scottish History. 

By Grace Aguilar. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“There is a delightful freshness, sincerity and vivacity about all of Grace 
Aguilar’s stories which cannot fail to win the interest and admiration of 
every lover of good reading.” — Boston Beacon. 

Three Bright Girls : A Story of Chance and Mischance. 

By Annie E. Armstrong. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘The charm of the story lies in the cheery helpfulness of spirit devel- 
oped in the girls by their changed circumstances; while the author finds 
a pleasant ending to all their happy makeshifts. The story is charmingly 
told, and the book can be warmly recommended as a present for girls.” — 
Standard. 

Giannetta : A Girl’s Story of Herself. By Eosa Mul- 

HOLLAND. l2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘Extremely well told and full of interest. Giannetta is a true heroine — 
warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women now'adays are, 
largely touched with enthusiasm of humanity. The illustrations are un- 
usually good. One of the most attractive gift books of the season.” — The 
Academy. 

Margery Merton’s Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

‘‘The experiences of an orphan girl who in Infancy is left by her 
father to the care of an elderly aunt residing near Paris. The accounts 
of the various persons who have an after influence on the story are sin- 
gularly vivid. There is a subtle attraction about the book which will make 
it a great favorite with thoughtful girls.”- — Saturday Review. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. 


6 A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Under False Colors: A Story from Two Girls’ Lives. 

By Sarah Doudney. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price ^1.00. 

“Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories — pure 
in style, original in conception, and W'ith skillfully wrought out plots; but 
we have seen nothing equal in dramatic energy to this book.” — Christian 
Leader. 

Down the Snow Stairs; or, From Good-night to Good- 

morning. By Alice Corkran, 12mo, cloth,- illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Among all the Christmas volumes which the year has brought to our 
talile this one stands out facile princeps — a gem of the first water, bearing 
upon every one of its pages the signet mark of genius. . . . All is told 

with such simplicity and perfect naturalness that the dream appears to be 
a solid reality. It is indeed a Little Pilgrim’s Progress.” — Christian 
Leader. 

The Tapestry Room: A Child’s Romance. By Mrs. 

Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, pi-ice 75 cents. 

“Mrs. Molesworth is a charming painter of the nature and ways of 
children; and she has done good service in giving us this charming 
juvenile which will delight the young people.”^ — Athenaeum, London. 

Little Miss Peggy: Only a Nursery Story. By Mrs. 

Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

Mrs. Molesworth’s children are finished studies. A joyous earnest spirit 
pervades her work, and her sympathy is unbounded. She loves them 
with her whole heart, while she lays bare their little minds, and expresses 
their foibles, their faults, their virtues, their inw’ard struggles, their 
conception of duty, and their instinctive knowledge of the right and wrong 
of things. She knows their characters, she understands their wants, 
and she desires to help them. 

Polly: A New Fashioned Girl. By L. T. Meade. 

12ino, cloth, illustrated, price Si .00. 

Few authors have achieved a popularity equal to Mrs. Meade as a 
writer of stories for young girls. Her characters are lining beings of 
flesh and blood, not lay figures of conventional type. Into the trials 
and crosses, and everyday experiences, the reader enters at once with zest 
and hearty sympathy. While Mrs. Meade always writes with a high 
moral purpose, her lessons of life, purity and nobility of character are 
rather inculcated by example than intruded as sermons. 

One of a Covey. By the author of ^Aliss Toosey’s 

Mission.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“Full of spirit and life, so well sustained throughout that grown-up 
readers may enjoy it as much as children. This ‘Covey’ consists of the 
twelve children of a hard-pressed Dr. Partridge out of which is chosen a 
little girl to be adopted by a spoiled, fine lady. We have rarely read 
a story for hoys and girls with greater pleasure. One of the chief char- 
acters Vt^ould not have disgraced Dickens’ pen.” — Literary World. 

The Little Princess of Tower Hill. By L. T. Meade. 

12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is one of the prettiest books for children published, as pretty 
as a pond-lily, and quite as fragrant. Nothing could be imagined more 
attractive to young people than such a combination of fresh pages and 
fair pictures; and while children will rejoice over it — which is much 
better than crying for it — it is a book thiat can be read with pleasure 
even by older boys and girls.” — Boston Advertiser. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-58 Duane Street, New York. 


A. L. BURT^S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


7 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Eosy. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 

price 75 cents. 

Mrs. Molesworth, considering the quality and quantity of her labors, 
IS the best story-teller for children England has yet known. 

“This is a very pretty story. The writer knows children, and their 
ways well. The illustrations are exceedingly well drawn.’’ — Spectator. 

Esther : A Book for Girls. By Rosa N. Carey. 12ino, 

cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“She inspires her readers simply by blunging them in contact with the 
characters, who are in themselves inspiring. Her simple stories are woven 
in order to give her an opportunity to describe her characters by their own 
conduct in seasons of trial.’’ — Chicago Times. 

Sweet Content. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, cloth, 

illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“It seems to me not at all easier to draw a lifelike child than to draw 
a lifelike man or woman: Shakespeare and Webster w’ere the only tw’o 
men of their age who could do it with perfect delicacy and success. 
Our own age is more fortunate, on this single score at least, having a 
lai’ger and far nobler proportion of female writers; among whom, since 
the death of George Eliot, there is none left whose touch is so exquisite 
and masterly, whose love is so thoroughly according to knowledge, whose 
bright and sweet invention is so fruitful, so truthful, or so delightful as 
Mrs. Molesworth’s.’’ — A. C. Swinhourne. 

Honor Bright ; or. The Four-Leaved Shamrock. By the 

author of “Miss Toosey’s Mission.” 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1 00. 

“It requires a special talent to describe the sayings and doings of 
children, and the author of ‘Honor Bright,’ ‘One of a Covey,’ possesses that 
talent in no small degree. A cheery, sensible, and healthy tale.’’ — The 
Times. 

The Cuckoo Clock. By Mrs. Molesworth. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A beautiful little story. It will be read with delight by every child 
Into whose hands it is placed. . . . The author deserves all the praise 

that has been, is, and will be bestowed on ‘The Cuckoo Clock.’ Children’s 
stories are plentiful, but one like this is not to be met with every day.’’— 
Pall Mall Gazette. 

The Adventures of a Brownie. As Told to my Child. 

By Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“The author of this delightful little book leaves it in doubt all through 
whether there actually is such a creature in existence as a Brownie, but 
she makes us hope that there might be.’’ — Chicago Standard. 

Only a Girl : . A Tale of Brittany. From the French 

by C. A. Jones. 12ino, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“We can thoroughly recommend this brightly written and homely nar- 
rative.’’ — Saturday Review. 

Little Rosebud; or, Things Will Take a Turn. By 

Beatrice Harraden. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A most delightful little book. . . . Miss Harraden is so bright, so 

healthy, and so natural withal that the book ought, as a matter of duti', 
to be added to every girl’s library in the land.’’ — Boston Transcript. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 
publisher, A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York. 


8 A. L. BURT^’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 


BOOKS FOR GIRLS. 

Girl Neighbors ; or, The Old Fashion and the New. By 

Sarah Tytler. ]2mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00. 

“One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Tytler’s stories. 
‘Girl Neighbors’ is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of preju- 
dices got rid of, very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written.” — 
Spectator. 

The Little Lame Prince and His Traveling Cloak. By 

Miss Mulock. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents.x 

“No sweeter — that is the proper word — Christmas story for the little 
folks could easily be found, and it is as delightful for older readers as 
well. There is a moral to it which the reader can find out for himself, if 
he chooses to think.” — Cleveland Herald. 

Little Miss Joy. By Emma Marshall. 12mo, cloth, 

illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A very pleasant and instructive story, told by a very charming writer 
in such an attractive way as to win favor among its young readers. The 
illusti’ations add to the beauty of the book.” — Utica Herald. 

The House that Grew. A Girl’s Story. By Mrs. Moles- 

WORTH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“This is a very prett.v story of English life. Mrs. Molesw’orth is one 
of the most popular and charming of English story-writers for children. 
Her child characters are true to life, always natural and attractive, 
and her stories are wholesome and interesting.” — Indianapolis Journal. 

The House of Surprises. By L. T. Meade. 12mo, 

cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents. 

“A charming tale of charming children, who are naughty enough to be 
Interesting, and natural enough to be lovable; and very prettily their story 
is told. The quaintest yet most natural stories of child life. Simply 
delightful.” — Vanity Fair. 

The Jolly Ten: and their Year of Stories. By Agnes 

Carr Sage. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75 cents, 

The story of a band of cousins who were accustomed to meet at the 
“Pinery,” with “Aunt Roxy.” At her fireside they play merry games, 
have suppers flavored with innocent fun, and listen to stories — each with 
its lesson calculated to make the ten not less jolly, but quickly re- 
sponsive to the calls of duty and to the needs of others. 

Little Miss Dorothy. The Wonderful Adventures of 

Two Little People. By Martha James. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price 75c. 
“This is a charming little juvenile story from the pen of Mrs. James, 
detailing the various adventures of a couple of young children. Their 
many adventures are told in a charming manner, and the book will 
please young girls and boys.” — Montreal Star. 

Pen^ Yenture. A Story for Girls. By Elvirton 

WiMHjy 12mo,^ot^lillti^ated, price 75 cents. 

Sowwtmng Pen sa^ iii the condition of the cash girls in a certain store 
gave her a thought; the_ thought became a plan; the plan became a ven- 
ture — Pen s venture. It is amusing, touching, and instructive to read about 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 

publisher, A. L. BURT, 62-68 Duane Street, New York. ^ 


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